


Unconnected Short Stories

by falsteloj



Category: Young Dracula
Genre: Angst, Community: chromaticvision, Community: slashthedrabble, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Gen, Het and Slash, High School, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, M/M, Male Slash, Multi, Romance, Sex Pollen, Slash, Slashy, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Vampire Slayer(s), Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-14 07:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 136
Words: 155,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsteloj/pseuds/falsteloj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lots of request fills, drabble challenges, and other random pieces that don't really merit their own post. Various pairings and genres.</p><p>For more info on individual stories, check out the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/27201609">Chapter Index</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vlad / Bertrand, unrequited.

"I love you."

Silence reigned, no response seemed entirely appropriate. Finally Vlad cracked, tone desperate,

"Please, Bertrand, say something."

Bertrand supposed he should have been expecting it, had noted for months the way the boy's cheeks coloured when their gaze meant, and how hard he tried to keep his thoughts shielded. With the slayer out of the picture, and the vampire world in turmoil, it made sense the boy would cling to something constant, something stable.

He bit back a laugh at that last. Stable; he felt anything but.

"I'm very flattered," he began, dredging up memories of terrible training courses with the staff of Garside Grange, and suppressing those of the way he had dealt with the last vampire to make such a confession to him. That had been before. He was a reformed character.

Vlad's face crumpled, recognising the words for what they were, and Bertrand felt a sudden surge of sympathy, proving how soft he had become since losing the book as his focus of single minded determination.

"Is there someone else?" Vlad asked, though the sensible thing would have been to abandon the topic entirely.

"Would it make any difference?"

Vlad's shoulders slumped. Bertrand ruthlessly quashed the urge to comfort him. Vlad was young, scarcely more than a child.

He had his whole unlife ahead of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	2. Robin / The Count, kind of...

"Vladimir," the Count gestured widely from his throne, "isn't here."

Robin stood still for a long moment, waiting for the elaboration which never came. Finally he prompted, "Do you know where he is?"

"Do I know where he is?" The Count asked incredulously. "I am the Prince of Darkness, the most evil vampire to cast my foul shadow upon this Earth, the –"

"Yeah," Robin cut in, "but do you know where he is."

The Count pulled a face. "Outside, somewhere. He said he wouldn't be long."

Robin grinned and slid into an empty seat, reaching for a newspaper. He could wait.

* * *

"Aw,  _awesome_ ," Robin murmured at the sight of the centre spread: 'What Makes a Breather Irresistible?' He was just reading Countess Basarab's comments on core body temperature when  _it_  happened. Fidgeting with the edge of the page, sharp pain shot through him, the paper slicing skin.

He made to lift the cut to his mouth but jumped in shock as cool fingers caught hold of his wrist in a vice like grip.

"Ah-ah," the Count smirked at him, "waste not, want not."

The Count arched one dark eyebrow, a predatory smile curling across his face, and brought the hand up to his own mouth. Robin watched, wide-eyed and breathless, as the Count swiped at the blood with his tongue before sucking at his finger in a way that he imagined would be featuring heavily in his dreams – both asleep and waking – for many years to come.

After a long moment the Count released him, flashing him a lecherous smile, before turning on his heel, cape billowing, and leaving the room. Robin stared at the empty doorway until his heart rate managed to slow to something less life-threatening.

* * *

"Robin, are you even listening?" Vlad waved a hand in front of his face. "Cinema or bowling; bowling or cinema?"

"I really," Robin shrugged, the faraway look on his face he'd had all afternoon still firmly in place, "don't mind."

"No, let me guess," Vlad said sarcastically. "You'd sooner stay here and sit outside Ingrid's room all night. Just in case she gets peckish and can't be bothered to walk all the way to the kitchen."

"Nah," Robin lounged back against Vlad's pillows, smiling dopily. "I thought we could stay in and sit outside the crypt. Your dad said he was staying home tonight."

Vlad took in the all too familiar dreamy look in Robin's eyes and the lovesick taint to his voice, and pulled a face. Robin, there were no two ways about it, needed  _serious_  help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	3. Vlad / Erin + Vlad / Robin, angst.

They argue about stupid things, ridiculous things, and Vlad doesn't know what it means that after every fight it's Robin he thinks of. He lies awake in his coffin and remembers childish spats over who was going to copy whose homework, and which of them would get to sit by the window on their one and only school trip to Kenwood Adventure Centre.

Erin invariably looks at him sadly in the morning, so that he feels guilty enough to hold her hand and apologise, irrespective of which of them had started it. It never seems that important.

He asks Bertrand once, in a moment of weakness, if there is any hope, and if he had ever formed a meaningful relationship. Bertrand spends a moment looking into the middle distance, the way he does more and more since the destruction of Sethius, and tells him a tale of unrelenting misery and ruin, which does little to calm his fears on the subject.

Vlad supposes that he should think himself lucky, that anyone is willing to see past his vampirism. If it's not all sunshine and roses then, really, the magazines the girls leave lying around the school have taught him that that's no different for anyone.

Still he thinks of dark hair, and dark eyes, and when Erin finally calls him on it, because she isn't stupid, he ignores the advice of his ever present reflection and tells her the truth.

He can't forget Robin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	4. Robin / Vlad, sap.

It had taken months of hinting, and wheedling, and outright begging but, finally, Miss McCauley had agreed it was a good idea, and suddenly the Count couldn't wait to send Renfield to the shops to stagger back with a 42 inch TV set.

Ingrid sniffed haughtily, but wasn't smart enough to hide the packaging from the shopping channel, and Bertrand eyed it up suspiciously, but watched the news diligently, and Vlad once caught him reminiscing with his dad about refreshments during war time newsreels.

Wolfie seemed happy enough with the cartoons, and Renfield's dress collection started improving, with endless viewings of programmes about skin care and how to make the most of your waistline.

His dad had little interest, though felt he had to be constantly in possession of the remote control, and Erin used it as an excuse to not have to actually talk to him, because they both knew that without a distraction they would have to face facts, and that their romance would be over.

Vlad was often uncertain as to whether it had ever actually begun, or if it had all been a figment of his imagination. One night they sat and watched some grey drama, about a couple who decided it would be better if they just stayed friends, and both of them squirmed uncomfortably, because it was all a little too close for comfort.

The final nail in the proverbial coffin came when he was least expecting it. His dad was lording it over the remote, refusing to allow anyone near it though it was BBC3, and the timetabled programming was trashy and awful.

"You don't even know what this is," Ingrid protested, tone laced with frustration, and the Count gestured at it, too grandly, and said,

"Of course I do, it's –" and then in an undertone, "Wolfie, pass me that televisual guide, there's a good dog."

"Whatever it is, I don't think it's overly suitable –" Bertrand started, but was cut off by Vlad surprising himself, though he didn't have time to wonder about his outburst of 'Quiet!', instead snatching the remote and sitting in front of the screen, breath baited.

He was proved right, though he had already been certain of it. He'd recognise that accent anywhere.

"Growing up in the shadow of Stokely Castle," the voiceover said, "Chantal has always wanted her own fairytale wedding."

A girl Vlad vaguely recognized from Stokely Grammar appeared, all fake tan, fake nails and faker hair. She flicked through a gossip magazine as she told the camera,

"Like, I already told him if he messes my dress up then I won't even marry him."

"Across town, the would be groom is more concerned with the stag night arrangements."

The screen was suddenly full of Robin's face and, though ten minutes he would never have credited it, it felt like someone had just ripped his heart out. It was so obvious, as if he had always known, and he might have said something, he wasn't sure, but everyone was staring at him like he was growing an extra head when the world tilted the right way up again, and the guy delivering the voiceover said,

"Paul chose both brothers to be best man," and Ian's voice followed it with,

"I get to do all the good stuff, and Robin can make sure we all get to the church in the morning."

"I see Branagh is still as repulsive as ever," Ingrid said, like she felt it was expected of her, and Vlad didn't waste any time arguing, mumbling instead about how he had just remembered he had to be somewhere.

Erin caught him just before he had chance to flit, and he realised with a sudden wave of guilt exactly what she must think of his behaviour.

"That was your friend, wasn't it? The one you told me about."

Vlad nodded, cautious, and tried to determine whether there had been any significant stress on the word 'friend' or not. She swallowed, bit at her lip and then looked him in the face.

"We both know that it's all wrong." And then, with a forced smile, "Good luck, Vlad."

He had never loved her more than he did in that moment.

The fact that it was all more than a little bit mad really hit home when he found himself stood on the Branaghs' doorstep, about to, well, who knew. Confess his undying love to someone who might not even remember him.

Except Robin stared at him with wide eyed shock when he pulled the door open, and said, "Vlad, what are you doing here?," followed swiftly by, "if you've gone evil and are going to bite everyone you can't come in. But you can still do me if you want though."

It was so unexpected he started laughing, just on the verge of hysterical, and when he managed to regain control it was gone as swiftly as it had come, everything feeling entirely serious all over again.

"I've missed you," he said, cataloguing all the ways in which Robin looked different, and all the ways in which he looked exactly as Vlad remembered.

"Yeah?" Robin asked, sounding half hopeful and half smug, as if he had always known that he would come back, one day.

"Yeah," he nodded, certain it must all be obvious from the way his gaze lingered, and the way he had just turned up in the first place. Robin grinned, cheeks dimpling in the exact same way Vlad remembered, and said in a tone that told him all he needed to know,

"You'd better come in then, hadn't you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	5. Inspired by the 2012 QueerFest prompt: Any high-school fandom, any characters, there's a rumour amongst the pupils that a teacher is gay. The teacher suddenly finds themself inundated with students wanting advice.

It's easy enough to work out where the rumour originated. What is less easy is deciding to do nothing to counter it.

The third years giggle in the corridors when he passes them, and the girls in his form class whisper to each other about which members of the teaching staff they ought to try and set him up with. Someone – and he has his suspicions – posts crudely photoshopped images to the department noticeboard, and Gary Anderson kicks up such a fuss about having to sit next to him at morning assembly the Head steps in, and suddenly he is being asked for his input on 'diversity week' by the Senior Leadership Team.

Ingrid smiles too sweetly when Miss McCauley drops by after hours with lesson plans and banners, and children start knocking on his door at lunchtimes, pale and anxious as they work up the courage to ask his advice on how to make sense of what they are feeling.

Vlad had wanted to punish him by forcing him to take the position and, in those moments, Bertrand thinks that the boy has succeeded admirably. He had his soul taken from him long ago, and in the centuries since he's trained to be ruthless, a killer. He doesn't know what to do with the stream of questioning teenagers, other than to tell them to go away, and yet the compulsion to obey is too strong because, he fears, without it, he wouldn't even know what to do with himself.

Some of them cry, others simmer with barely concealed anger. Most ask him questions he has no idea how to begin to answer.

Things had been different then, and the prayers he had been advised to offer up over his rosary had been proven worthless, anyway. He tries parroting things from the leaflets, and when that tactic grows stale he speaks his mind, and tells them that with luck they will only get one life, and that they ought to do what they want with it.

"Were your parents mad at you, Sir?" Kayleigh Thompson asks, guileless, and it's with shock that he realises he can no longer even remember what they looked like.

The year is almost up when Vlad comes to him, eyes rimmed red and body taut with nervous tension. "Did Ingrid know it was true?" He asks, voice sounding scratchy, and Bertrand doesn't need to probe to know he is referring to Ingrid's attempts to outwit him with flirtation, long before she ever began sticking pictures up on noticeboards.

"Perhaps," he says in response. "We never discussed it."

Vlad simply looks at him for long moments, like he is weighing up whether or not to say something. Finally the words come, "I think we're finished. Erin says it's for the best." Vlad chokes on the last part, and Bertrand understands enough not to congratulate the slayer on her common sense, belated though it might have been.

The silence stretches, because it is too late for his usual advice, and he's not in the habit of speaking false sympathy when there is nothing to be gained by it.

Vlad fidgets; Bertrand waits patiently.

"What would the Council think about it?" He asks at last, and Bertrand doesn't miss the stress on the final word. He forms his own carefully, though part of him longs to barb them, revenge for the humiliation of the past year, for all that he might have deserved it.

"They will take their cue from you." He's grown soft, become too in touch with his inner breather, and can't help but add with a fond smile, "It doesn't matter in our world. It hasn't for centuries."

The relief on the boy's face is obvious. "I didn't mean to make things awkward," Vlad says after another pause, though the fidgeting has lessened. "I only told Erin I thought – and Erin only said to Becky -"

"It's alright," Bertrand says, standing, at once unwilling to hear an apology and oddly touched to be receiving one, and pulls his masks and his dignity back around him. "I'm sure it has taught you a valuable lesson."

He doesn't need to be facing the boy to see the scowl his words and tone engenders. He smiles to himself, satisfied, and thinks that perhaps the last year hasn't been a dead loss, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	6. Robin / Bertrand, hc_bingo fill.

The book had been everything.

He had searched for the Chosen One for centuries, and subsumed all that he was into the mission. The others had fallen, one by one, until it was he – and he alone – who held the key to their salvation.

It couldn't have been for nothing. He refused to believe it. It was a trick of the slayers, or else another test to prove himself worthy. He obsessed over it night and day, thinking of all the dead ends he had encountered. The setbacks he had suffered.

He had overcome them. This time would be no different.

"Miss McCauley is looking for a new history teacher," Vlad told him one evening, when the way forward was becoming clearer, and the boy could ignore him no longer.

Bertrand raised an eyebrow, expression nonchalant though his thoughts were whirring. "And you're telling me this because?"

"I could order your execution," Vlad said, with more bravado than conviction, and Bertrand stared at the glass he was holding, at the rich liquid it held. "You have until tomorrow morning."

He waited until the sound of Vlad's footsteps had disappeared before shattering the glass over the cold stone floor.

* * *

Erin begged Vlad to send Bertrand away, didn't trust him as far as she could throw him. It wasn't as if she could just forget about the kidnapping and the attempted murder.

Vlad shifted awkwardly and told her he'd deal with him, in his own way.

The agreement with the Guild held, and the Council sent out conciliatory feelers. Count Vasilev bowed low and spoke with deference, and still Bertrand skulked at the back of the party, gaze so dark it made her skin crawl.

"The children are really responding to the way he brings history to life," Miss McCauley told them all over a dinner at which only she and Vlad's father seemed unaware of the mounting tension.

"You are too kind," Bertrand responded, voice cold, and it was at that moment she became convinced. Bertrand was up to something.

* * *

The process was easier than he had imagined. The blood welled, albeit off-colour and sluggish, when he held the blade to his wrist, and the mixture smoked and bubbled exactly as described in the crumbling scroll he had taken instruction from.

It would bind them together, body and soul, but Bertrand didn't feel it mattered. His body was strong enough to withstand it, and his soul was long gone, nothing but hatred and evil filling the chasm.

Sethius bared his teeth at him, manic, and doubt overwhelmed him, only for a moment.

He was Bertrand du Fortunesa; Destroyer of the Innocent, Devil of the Seas. If Vlad couldn't see that the book had to be the answer, then he would make the decision for him.

Yet the plan swiftly unravelled. His tutoring had been too thorough, and Vlad dodged effortlessly. The slayer was prepared, flanked by her untrustworthy brother, and Vasilev just watched on from the sidelines, smirking.

"You haven't changed," the older vampire whispered into his ear in the aftermath. "Always wanting what you can't have, aren't you?"

"You know nothing about me," Bertrand shot back, though there was little enough time to waste, not now his treachery was becoming common knowledge. "You never did."

Vasilev simply looked him up and down, before heading for the door, cloak billowing.

"I know you better than anyone does."

* * *

Vlad felt sorry for Bertrand.

The man had once slaughtered his way across the globe, had inspired terror in lord and peasant and fellow vampire alike. He was now sprawled across the floor of Mrs. Wickham's former office, surrounded by GCSE test papers and blood which, even from the doorway, Vlad could tell was liberally laced with ethanol.

"You ought to just kill me," Bertrand told him, taking a slug from the nearest bottle.

"I would, but then my dad would have to cover your classes," Vlad said, trying for humour as he shut the door and picked his way closer. Bertrand didn't laugh.

"Only the merciful are taken," Bertrand whispered in response, though his gaze seemed to pierce straight through him. "That's what my father would have said." At that last the older vampire's entire demeanour changed, and Vlad barely had time to duck before a bottle smashed into the wall behind him, Bertrand snarling with anger.

Vlad conceded that this visit might have been a bad idea. It was, after all, less than a day ago that Bertrand had been hell-bent on killing him; had resurrected Sethius' spirit from the man's ashes and set him loose. If anything Sethius had been even more deranged than last time he'd had the misfortune of meeting him. Vlad rubbed unconsciously at his arm – he had the bruises to prove it.

His dad had been conspicuous by his absence during the whole debacle, something which was bound to have Miss. McCauley involved somewhere. Renfield had wailed with fear, and Erin had plotted with Ryan to stake the nutjob through the back just as he was about to turn Vlad into nothing more than a nuisance for the school cleaners.

Wolfie had ran for Ingrid, and Ingrid had swept in looking more pleased with herself than usual and asking what had he expected, when it was obvious Bertrand was up to something from the way he had lowered himself to spending his days lecturing pustules of primordial scum about the Industrial Revolution. Ingrid's wording, not his own. Obviously.

He should call a ritual slaying, and shove Bertrand out into the morning sun. At the very least he ought to order the man be shunned for a couple of decades. But, on some level, he understood what it was like to lose yourself. To feel like there was nothing left.

"You're more than that stupid book," Vlad said as Bertrand slammed about the cramped office, only half certain he wasn't going to get another barrage of bruises for his efforts. "You can be whatever you want to be."

They stared each other down for one moment, two, Bertrand's fangs bared. And then, just as Vlad was going to give up and leave him to it, Bertrand crumpled to his knees before him and  _sobbed_.

* * *

It was mortifying, shaming. He ought to meet the morning sun willingly.

Those were the thoughts running through his head as Bertrand stood on the rooftop of Garside Grange, gazing up into the night sky. When he had been a young man it had symbolized romance and mystery. He had sat at the window of his room, and wondered whether his intended was looking upon the very same stars as he.

He knew now that he had been an idiot. There was no one out there waiting for their paths to cross, nobody destined to share his unending life with him. The very idea was laughable. Even had he lived only his threescore and ten, as youngest son he would have likely had no choice but to take orders. No doubt he would have been fool enough to claim it a blessing.

Bertrand shook his head. For years he had not spared a thought for what had once been, focused only on the book, the Chosen One. What was to be. Now he couldn't rid himself of the memories. The heat and the warmth of the sun, and the gentle touch of his mother's hand on his brow as he drew his last breath, begging for somebody to give him absolution. The taste of her blood against his tongue, and the terror in the priest's eyes as he cowered behind his crucifix.

He shut his eyes, though the vision only grew clearer. Perhaps he was losing his mind. It frightened him less than the alternative.

His conscience had no right to trouble him now. He had done things he could never hope to atone for.

* * *

Ryan could scarcely believe his good fortune.

Ingrid, he knew, believed that knowledge was power. And any way he could help her, he would, so long as his unlife continued.

Erin had told him about Bertrand's strange behaviour already, though Vlad had sworn her to secrecy. Of how the man had clung to Vlad's legs after Sethius had been slayed for a second time, and of how he had sobbed and sobbed, and slurred about how all the angels and the saints had abandoned him

Ingrid was pleased, he could tell, and let him sit beside her, so that the scent of her perfume seemed to shroud the both of them.

From that point on he made it his business to watch and to listen, understanding instinctively that Bertrand's behaviour was far from normal. He was rewarded for his patience, when Vlad was busy being briefed for his official crowning, and his sister was being taught what it meant to carry a half breed.

"You were careless, you wanted it too badly," Vasilev was saying, Bertrand simply sitting and letting him. The man was paler than even the paintings in Ingrid's fashion magazines, and when he started coughing and could scarcely stop, Ryan wondered if perhaps it might be blood poisoning.

"I didn't know," Bertrand managed, and Vasilev sneered nastily,

"You heard the sermons well enough and still you followed him. It was lucky I was waiting for you." When Bertrand scowled, Vasilev leaned in closer, "You're the eldest now, the other childe have all been lost, one way or another."

Ryan kept still, as still as the excitement would allow him to. Bertrand's half-fang status was common enough knowledge, but this was something new. Something Ingrid would want to know.

Suddenly Vasilev stood, so quick that Ryan thought the Count had sensed his presence. But, no, Vasilev was just scanning the office, taking in the piles of papers and ringbinders.

"It must have near killed you to come to me, to beg me for help."

Bertrand stiffened, though his expression didn't change. Vasilev smiled; it wasn't a pleasant sight.

"I can't help you. That magic was old, dark. You'll never counteract it, not before it tears you apart from the inside out."

"What do I have to do?" Bertrand asked, jaw clenched.

"Always so stubborn," Vasilev cooed, touching a finger to Bertrand's cheek though it was obvious it wasn't welcome. "You have to be offered blood willingly. From somebody who loves you."

* * *

It hurt. It hurt more than he had ever thought possible. It wasn't the hunger, though that was ever present, gnawing. And it wasn't the humiliation, though it stung, knowing that Vasilev had seen him, once again, at his weakest.

It was the guilt lying thick in the pit of his stomach, the remorse for what he had done though by rights the death and the suffering should have been nothing but a source of pride to him.

He thought of his life before, before he had succumbed to temptation and followed, hoping only for one more glimpse of dark eyes and full lips, and instead had found Vasilev. Waiting for him.

Vasilev had come for him, after he had gorged himself on those he had once been closest too. The older vampire had taught him to hunt, and introduced him to the Recruiter, and when the initial bloodlust had died and he had demanded answers, Vasilev pushed his face against the cold stone floor, and told him that he had chosen him specially.

"I watched you," he had spoken against his ear, even as the pain flashed white hot. "I saw you watching. It was why I chose you, because you were already fallen."

In the present he had nothing but the school, and though he should despise it, he couldn't spare the energy. The students didn't like him, but they respected him, and when Vlad ceased to need him he no longer had to hide the way his entire being ached, and the way he hoped, in spite of it all, that there was someone out there.

That somebody would save him.

He followed public feeling, and the latest Ofsted reports, and Vlad relied on him to write letters of support to the more traditional newspapers, and Miss McCauley convinced the Board to promote him to Head of Department, because he had really turned results around, and he was so committed, which was another way of saying that he had nothing else to fill his time. Not now that the thought of tearing someone's throat out turned his stomach, and the book was gone, as if it had never existed in the first place.

Ingrid taunted him with the inevitability of it, and the Count challenged him to a chess match, as an excuse to air his grievances with his daughter. "She's so like her mother," he spat, unable to see that which was obvious, and Bertrand was dismayed when he lost, albeit narrowly, because he hadn't realised how out of practice he was.

It was easy enough to find opponents on the computer system he had been forced to become accustomed to and, it was an escape in the way his books and his rosary had once been.

"You're too predictable," his most regular competitor typed to him, and Bertrand laughed, mirthlessly, because it was the one thing he had never been accused of.

* * *

Ingrid leaned against the door frame, watching as Bertrand set to work with a red Garside issue biro. It was pathetic enough to be tragic.

"I do have a lot of work to do," Bertrand said eventually, without looking up from his marking. Ingrid simply smirked and pushed further into the room, gaze falling on the 'Thank You' card perched too casually on top of the filing cabinet, and the open laptop on the desk, the screen full of a half finished chess game.

"It can't be much longer now," Ingrid said as if the other vampire hadn't spoken. "I expect you're looking forward to it really; to be put out of your misery." She trailed her fingernails across his shoulders as she said it, triumphant at the way he shivered, helplessly.

His misfortune had served her well, and this chance to rub salt into the wounds was only the icing on the cake as far as she was concerned. She had made enquiries, discreetly, with the information Ryan had given to her, and Vasilev had had no choice but to support her appointment to the Inner Chamber of the Council.

It wasn't everything she had wanted, but it wasn't bad, and once Bertrand was history, her influence could only increase. The man should have had a position of his own by now, the situation was settled enough to get away with it. But Vlad didn't notice anything that didn't involve Erin or the Halfling, and Ingrid had no desire for a rival, even one that was about to snuff it.

"You're not as clever as you think you are," Bertrand told her, through gritted teeth, and Ingrid just smiled,

"But I'm cleverer than you think I am."

* * *

Ingrid was right, it couldn't be much longer now. He couldn't keep blood down, fresh or bottled, and the headache wouldn't go away, no matter how he twisted and turned in his coffin.

"Ah, Bertrand, I'm glad I've caught you," Miss McCauley said, mere minutes into the new school year, and he wondered if it was something vampiric or wilful ignorance that kept her from commenting on his appearance.

"Don't forget you've got the NQT starting this morning. I thought you would want to mentor him personally."

Bertrand grimaced. He had more than enough to do, like ensuring Vlad's position really was secure before trying to die in peace and quiet. Aloud he said,

"I can scarcely contain myself."

Miss McCauley took him at face value.

The man was waiting for him in his office, dark head bent over his chess board. There was something about him that reminded Bertrand of long ago, of wishing and waiting and wanting, and he slammed his office door shut in frustration, because he'd always thought that if he was going down, it would be in a blaze of violent glory.

"Robin. Robin Branagh," the man said with outstretched hand and none of the anxiety Bertrand felt he ought to be displaying. "Have we got a chess club here? Because we had one at my last placement, and it was  _awesome_."

"We have an inspection next month," Bertrand offered, unconsciously categorising the man's blood type. B. Always had been his favourite. When he realised what he was doing, he put a stop to it, noting the way he was stood too close, and the way his head was suddenly full of urges he'd thought he was no longer going to be bothered by.

"We can always play," Robin said in response, cracking his knuckles theatrically. "I really wanted this job. I think I'm going to like it here."

He wanted to say something about funding or probation periods, but the man grinned and he thought suddenly of the confessional, and how he had once tried so hard to banish it, and instead simply led the way to his classroom.

* * *

Vlad didn't believe it at first. Couldn't. But his dad backed up Ingrid, and Vasilev bowed lower than usual and told him,

"I can't recommend it, Your Grandness."

He went anyway, and though he wouldn't have credited it the sight of Robin wasn't the most shocking thing waiting for him.

"You look ill," he told Bertrand, because the other man had always been fastidious when it came to his clothing, but now his suit jacket was hanging off him.

"I'm fine," Bertrand said in response, but Vlad saw how he refused blood at the table, and the way his hand tremored.

Robin wasn't so reticent, and hugged him, and slapped his back, and for a moment Vlad could pretend that he was just a normal guy, running into an old school friend. Then the scent of Robin's blood shuddered through him, and the steady thump of his heart set his fangs on edge, and the effects of his own hypnosis were too apparent when Robin used the opportunity to say,

"This is so cool. We should do some sightseeing or something before you have to go back."

He stayed longer than he should have, long enough to be roped into sitting through the chess club's semi-finals, and watched the concentration on Robin's face with a pang of longing for the carefree life he had once led. They promised to write, and Robin cooed over the pictures in his wallet of Erin and the baby.

It was late when he made his way to his old bedroom, and he paused for a moment at the sound of Vasilev's voice, hushed though it was.

"They pose no threat. Perhaps you'll yet unlive to see it."

"Perhaps," Bertrand answered, though he sounded disinterested and exhausted, nothing like Vlad had never known him.

They needed to talk. He'd put it on his 'to do' list.

* * *

"I knew Vlad at school," Robin said over dinner in the school cafateria. "We told each other everything."

There was something off about the statement, but Bertrand couldn't place it. Couldn't clear his head enough to properly consider it. He hadn't expected to last it out this long; from the written accounts, no other vampire had.

"I wish you'd eat something," Robin went on. "You never know when you're going to need your strength, do you? That sounds like the kind of thing my mam used to say. My mam liked Vlad, thought he needed feeding up. She would have liked you too, I know she would 'ave."

Bertrand let the talk wash over him, because it felt comforting, like it was something he had done over and over. Except he was only confusing it with memories of someone else, and they had never understood what it had meant to him anyway.

He swayed when he stood, put a steadying hand on Robin's shoulder without thinking about it. The heat beneath his palm made his head swim, and he was only vaguely aware of the way the other man helped him from the canteen to his office.

"It's only a week until the end of term," Robin offered, and Bertrand struggled to sit upright, and to stay alert. "It'll all be over then."

He sounded uncertain, and Bertrand just nodded, and waited for the door to close before burying his head in his hands.

* * *

Ingrid paced the room angrily, then put a foot through one of her father's priceless trinkets just for the sake of it. The smell of Branagh hung in the air, and she couldn't believe she hadn't seen it coming.

Vasilev was a cowardly, lying worm, and there were as many disaffected vampires as slayers who would do anything to get at the Chosen One.

"He told me I would be perfect for the part," Branagh told her, calm and serious and nothing like the inane babbler she had been forced to listen to every time Bertrand chose to hold a meeting on this side of the school building. "I thought it would be easy."

"How many are there?" She had asked, planning, and he had shrugged, met her gaze.

"50. Maybe 60."

In the present she snapped her fingers, her devotees scurrying. There was a lot to do.

* * *

His thoughts were blurring, running into each other. He had no idea how he had been talked into overseeing this.

"I was chess champion four years running at my school," Robin was telling a pretty teaching assistant from the art department. Bertrand felt his fangs against his lips and scowled. He was going to win the staff chess finals if it was the last thing he did, which was looking more than probable.

His reasoning was not important, vanity was such a small sin in comparison to those he had already collected.

Vlad had been easy enough to distract, and Vasilev had assured him that all threats were in hand, though he trusted the older vampire even less now than he ever had. In the end he had had no choice but to approach Ingrid, and though she had made him suffer, he trusted her well enough to do what was in everyone's best interests.

The final match was between himself and Robin, inevitably, and his concentration slipped and wavered, until Robin looked at him, pointedly, as he captured his final piece.

"I've told you before; you are too predictable."

Bertrand understood, though there was nothing he could do about it. He left before Miss McCauley had finished her speech, and the cold stone of the disused East Wing corridor was comforting. Even if it hadn't been, he couldn't make it any further.

Death was surprisingly loud in its coming, and the banging and the scuffling reverberated its way around his skull for long minutes before he realised that it was, in fact, a sign of life.

He could make Vlad out, and beside him the slayer, more than holding their own against a rag bag group of vampires. He ought to move, ought to do something. Except his vision was blurring, and though he got to his feet, it took nearly all of his effort.

When he opened his eyes it was to the sight of Vasilev, and it felt like some kind of divine punishment that he should be the creator and the destroyer of his unlife. But one moment the hated face was there, and the next his favourite jacket was covered in a fine layer of the kind of ash that didn't take kindly to dry cleaning.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," a familiar voice said, sounding at once close and distant, and then there was the press of flesh to his mouth and, after that, nothing.

* * *

"You were going to kill me?" A voice that had to be Vlad's said as he regained consciousness.

"You tried to wipe my mind and just disappeared," Robin countered, sulkily.

"That was for your own protection!"

"Yeah, well you don't know what it was like. You have no idea. Jonno might have forgiven you, but -"

"What's Jonno got to do with anything!"

"Look, the fact is, I didn't kill you. Did I?"

"You can't just say that and it's as if you never wanted to in the first place."

Bertrand groaned, it really wasn't doing anything for his headache. Except, his head wasn't aching. He moved, gingerly, experimentally, but there was no wave of pain, no lurching feel of sickness. He realised suddenly that he was hungry, and that he could smell properly, the swirl of life and blood and colour that had been missing for so long he had ceased to notice it.

"You're awake!" Vlad exclaimed, and the boy had the good grace to look guilty, for not noticing that he had been death's door for months now.

"How are you feeling?" Robin asked, and there was a nervous note in his voice that made the monster within him crow with delight, even as his long-dead heart felt like it was making a dismal attempt at kickstarting.

"You fed me," he said simply, and he couldn't miss Vlad's conflicted expression on the subject, even as he excused himself.

"Vasilev said you'd like me," Robin said, ignoring the way he scowled at the mention of the other vampire's name. "I didn't expect to end up liking you."

"It's more than like," Bertrand countered, revelling in the confidence and the certainty that came with being a fully fledged vampire. Robin shrugged, graceless, and sat on the floor beside the couch he had been somewhat unceremoniously dumped on,

"I don't let just anyone stick their fangs into me," Robin answered, with a smile that made his insides squirm because he obviously wasn't as back to his old self as he had thought he was. Robin took his hand then, without any trace of fear, and Bertrand decided that the change was okay.

He had plenty of time to learn to unlive with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	7. Robin / OFC + Robin / Vlad, Inspired by the 50 reasons to have sex fic fest.

Kelsey was jealous by nature. She didn't like him going anywhere she couldn't keep an eye on him, and she didn't like that he was near enough the only guy on his campus corridor. She didn't like that he had added all the girls from his course on FaceSpace, and she certainly didn't like that he had random girls' numbers stored on his phone, no matter how much he insisted that he'd had the phone since he was 13 and couldn't even remember their owners.

Robin supposed that was why Kelsey had sent that first text; because he had been trying to get his coursework finished, and he didn't really want to go out so they could have yet another blazing argument anyway. Kelsey had slammed her way out of the building eventually and, because he had no choice but to be his mother's son, he was forced to run after her and walk her to the train station because the streets weren't safe, and his mam would bend his ear about it until he'd sooner throw himself on their doubtful mercy.

It wasn't until he was on his way back that he realised the message had been sent. 'Who is this?' to a number without a name ascribed to it. Robin winced, thinking of all the mistakes it could be, and then there was a tree shaped a bit like a skeleton, and an email from the blonde girl in his tutor group, and he forgot all about it.

Kelsey rang him in the morning, after his lecture, to say that she was sorry, and he accepted so they made up, though they both knew it was really a cruelty. It wasn't working, hadn't been for a long time. Kelsey was happy in Stokely, and he wanted to be anywhere but. Half the time it was like they were total strangers.

He ended the call with "I love you too" all the same, and the guilt churned in his gut, and made him streak his canvas black, and red, and monstrous.

The reply took him by surprise, and he simply stared at in bed that night wondering how much he would regret it if he responded.

'I'm probably not who you think I am. Who are you?'

It would only invite trouble, Robin knew. The sensible thing would be to delete it before Kelsey laid eyes on it, and pretend it had never hit his inbox. He was going to do that, had the best of intentions. But it played on his mind so that he couldn't sleep, and at 3am he snatched the thing up and sent 'I'm hurt, people tell me I'm unforgettable' before he could think better of it.

'Memory can play tricks on you', was waiting for him when he woke up, and the natural thing to do seemed to be to tap out,

'Do you have first hand experience?'

They exchanged messages all day, through his lectures, and his supposed study session at the library. All the while he racked his memory for a face or a name, thinking of drunken nights in town, when Kelsey had let him off the leash long enough. The last was like cold water across his face because, though it was in ruins, it hadn't always been a disaster zone.

'My other half wouldn't like this,' he wrote finally, as his alarm clock glowed an unhealthy hour in the darkness, because he surely couldn't make it any clearer. He felt sick, waiting. And then miserable and hard done by, which was ridiculous because the girl could look like the back end of the Stokely Circular, for all he knew. His heart skipped a beat when the response came, and settled somewhere in his stomach as he waited for it to open.

'I don't think you want me to stop though.'

He hadn't even realised he had been holding his breath until the relief flooded through him.

Term ended, and the holidays came, and still the messages flew between them. His heart sped every time he saw a notification, and he caught himself time and again daydreaming about what she might look like.

'I bet you have a beautiful smile,' he tried, because she did, in his mind's eye.

'You don't know the half of it.'

'You don't need to be so modest.'

'I'm serious.'

'I would be too, if you'd let me.'

Kelsey accused him, shrill and paranoid, and for the first time he made no attempt to defend himself.

"You're seeing someone else," she told him, with more disdain than tears, and he shook his head, honest, and said,

"I'm not."

She just looked at him, sad.

"But you want to be."

There was no point in denying it so he said nothing, and the sudden certainty that he and Kelsey were over, the last link to his childhood, made him bolder than he would have otherwise had the nerve to. It didn't matter, really, because the number only rang and rang, and then went through to voicemail.

"Watching the phone won't make it ring," his dad told him the following day, like it would make him feel any better.

"Kelsey might get back with you if you try hard enough," Paul offered, under strict orders from their mam to be kind and comforting.

Robin just sighed and counted down the days until he went back to halls, helplessly sending text after text, because he was in too deep, and he had always been stubborn about getting what he wanted.

'Forgive me?'

'Pretty please.'

'With a cherry on top.'

'Hope you're okay.'

'You haven't really forgotten about me?'

'I miss you. :('

It came when he had almost given up home, and he read it over and over and over again, because it was too good to be true when a minute before his life hadn't been worth living.

'I've not been ignoring you, things have been manic. Horrible. I kept thinking about you. You would have made it all seem better.'

'I could be a serial killer,' Robin wrote back, beaming.

'So could I. I could be anything.'

'I don't care. I don't think you do either.'

'You shouldn't say things like that.'

'I'm not, I'm typing them. But I mean them. I feel like I've known you forever.'

This time the answer wasn't instantaneous, and Robin bit at his lip, weighing the risks and the stupidity. The potential gain came in higher, and he curled tighter into his blankets, cheeks flushing as he typed,

'If you'd let me I'd show you how I feel.'

'How?'

He could leave it at that, pass the situation by. But it had gone on too long, and what happened next was only inevitable. There was detail, but it wasn't lurid, and he matched every touch he described, until his breath came fast and shallow, and his skin near burnt with the need for more. For anything.

'You don't understand what you're getting into.'

It could be the worst mistake he ever made, he knew, and still he didn't hesitate.

'Show me.'

The waiting was unbearable, and Robin peered up into the face of every person who passed, wondering. He had worried that they would miss each other, but the confession had been short and sweet, and the latter convinced him more than anything that he had it bad, because surely he ought to be angry.

'I always knew who you were,' it read. 'Can't speak for others, but I could never forget you.'

He jumped near out of his skin at the touch of fingers to his shoulders and he knew, without being told, it just seemed obvious. Blue eyes, and dark hair, and anxious tension that was at once familiar and unnerving.

"You might hate me, Robin, once you realise," the other man said, even as the rest of the world carried on around them.

"And I might not," Robin countered, watching the emotions fly across the other's face, knowing when to press his advantage. He pressed closer, let his mouth whisper words against an ear, revelling in how right it felt. Certain that nothing was going to take his victory away from him. "Try me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	8. Becky / Bertrand, kind of...

Talent at Garside Grange was conspicuous only by its absence.

Sure, Becky conceded that Ryan Hicks in 13G was alright, and Vlad Count had improved a lot since he had first turned up with his briefcase. But, still, there wasn't anyone worth getting really worked up over, not that Erin had picked up the memo.

Because Erin was nice enough, Becky thought, and always let her copy her homework. But her dress sense was terrible, and her crush on Count was embarrassing. Especially when he gave up on trying to look cool and started wearing striped sweaters to school again.

No, there was only one fit guy at Garside. And right now, he was looking straight at her.

"I believe I asked you a question," he said, tone dark and rich and hotter than the entire line up of One Direction. "Perhaps you'd like to join me this evening in detention."

"Yes, Sir," Becky breathed, oblivious to everything else around her, including her classmates.

He raised an eyebrow, their gaze locked for a moment longer, then turned back to the whiteboard.

Becky sighed, went back to ringing their names together inside little symmetrical lovehearts. He was going to be hers. He just didn't know it yet.

* * *

Bertrand had fought against the appointment tooth and nail.

He was a vampire, an assassin, had trained under the some of the greatest masters who had ever unlived. He wasn't, as he told the Count in no uncertain terms, a nursemaid.

"And yet," Ingrid had chipped in smugly, "you tutor my brother."

That had decided it.

Garside Grange was low on funds, like every other school in the country, and Mrs. Wickham was on long term sick after having a nervous breakdown. Swore blind she had seen bats merge into men, and that, in the stock cupboard, she could hear wolves howling.

"Bertrand will do it," the Count had assured when Miss. McCauley came to speak to him about the problem. "Nobody knows history like he does."

McCauley had been unsure, even as she was grateful, but the Count had waved a hand, and shot him a warning look, and come Monday morning he was stood before a roomful of breather brats, testily correcting their pronunciation of 'du Fortunesa'.

He had expected to despise it, obviously, and had told the brats the most bloodthirsty stories he could remember from whatever era the little chart told him they were meant to be studying. But instead of cowering in fear they hung on his every word, and gaggles of girls trailed him through the corridors, giggling every time he so much as glanced in their direction.

It was, to be frank, a welcome change from his usual situation. The Count mistrusted him, and Vlad treated him little better than a peasant, preferring to spend his time with the slayer. If he was bitter about it, he felt perfectly justified.

His name struck fear into the breast of every vampire who had heard it. He had had conquests in every country on the map, and quite a few which were no longer recognized.

And he was reduced to looking forward to supervising detention sessions. Bertrand barely restrained a snarl as he strode into the room, ready to enforce the most hideous punishment he could think of that wouldn't result in him being staked for breaching the peace treaty.

Instead the tirade died on his lips, words failing him.

"I thought you were never coming, Sir."

* * *

Vlad had known this would happen. Well, not  _this_  exactly, but something equally as terrible.

It was all over the playground, and there was no way it couldn't have made the staffroom. There would be an investigation and the fact Bertrand didn't hold a PGCE or equivalent would be the least of their worries.

He closed his eyes and imagined it all too vividly. The police would summon Bertrand to the station, without the offer of an umbrella, and the world would want to know why the only recorded Bertrand du Fortunesa lived over 400 years ago.

Bertrand was in his room, not having any scheduled lesson, and Vlad scowled at the sight of the man flicking through his wardrobe. He took a breath then, fortifying, and slammed the door behind him.

Bertrand didn't even look up, smoothing the nonexistent creases from the suit he was wearing and saying,

"If you wanted me, telepathy would have been more effective, your Grandness."

There was something in the way Bertrand said 'Your Grandness' that frustrated him. Like the other man was mocking him somehow.

"How could you do it?" Vlad demanded, ignoring the obvious answer to the question. "Don't try to deny it, it's too late. Becky's told everyone."

Bertrand shrugged easily. "I had thought you would be pleased with me."

Vlad scrubbed his hands across his face, scarcely able to believe what he was hearing. Had Bertrand not seen the posters pinned to the notice boards? Not heard the laughter, and the sniggered whispers?

"The alternative was to give in to her advances," Bertrand said, wearing the same expression he used when he wanted Vlad to give telepathy 'just one more try', or to give vampire lore study 'just another ten minutes'.

Vlad found his anger dissipating in spite of himself.

"But did you have to say it was  _me_  you were involved with?" He asked weakly.

Bertrand just smiled at him, disconcerting, and said with an air of finality,

"It had to be believable, Vlad."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	9. Robin / Vlad, sap.

He caught the same bus every day.

Just the thought depressed him. Because once upon a time he had had dreams, ambitions, had believed he was going places. Now the only place he went was to Aberteilo and back on the Stokely circular.

Mrs Evans from number 42 always got on at the same stop at him, and asked him the same stupid questions every morning. Wasn't the weather terrible today, and how was his dad coping?

His dad wasn't coping, obviously, or he would have got the hell out of Stokely and only come home to let his mam nag at him. Still he always smiled politely, and mumbled some inanity, just because he knew it was what his mam would have wanted.

The school kids got on at the High Street, gaggles of Stokely Grammar sweaters and acne, and one spindly boy who stuck out like a sore thumb in his maroon blazer on the way to the fancy private school over in the next valley. They all seemed different to he had at their age, and the twins' voices rang in his head, telling him that was because they weren't freakish weirdos.

Robin ignored the lot of them, mostly, along with his fellow commuters, and stared out of the window until the bus reached his destination. From there it was work, and more work, and excruciating boredom, until it was time to catch the same bus back home again.

It was the same story on the return trip. The same faces over and over and over again. Gary Cooper, who had been in the twin's year at school, in his tracksuit bottoms and his work boots. The middle aged man straining the buttons on his suit, and the shop worker who always took her shoes off.

Gary generally talked on his mobile for the entire trip, attempting to appease his long-term girlfriend, or chatting up yet another new conquest. Tonight it was the former, and Robin cringed because even his limited experience told him Cooper was begging for a bruising.

He turned up the volume on his iPod to drown it out, and stared out of the dirty window into the darkness. He was so engrossed that he jumped when the black clad figure slid into the seat beside him, couldn't even have registered the reflection of the other man approaching.

It was unnerving, at first, because the bus was almost empty, and that left no reason Robin could see for anyone wanting to sit next to him. When he wasn't threatened for money, Robin settled for watching the newcomer, trying not to be glaringly obvious about it.

He was good looking, in a pale and interesting kind of way that was sadly lacking around Stokely, and seemed so familiar Robin was tempted to open his mouth and strike up conversation. He didn't, obviously, because Gary Cooper would tell the twins he was trying to chat up complete strangers on the last bus, and it would be yet another thing they'd never stop teasing him about.

They were pulling into his stop before it really dawned on him that he was openly staring, and he blushed, could barely get the words out that he wanted to get pass. The stranger simply stood, and shot him a smile that made his heart thump harder in his chest, and his cheeks burn all the way to his doorstep.

He shook his head as he searched for his keys, as if it would clear his head of nonsense ideas like the guy had been flirting with him.

He really was an idiot.

* * *

He really was an idiot.

As he slunk into the sitting room, Ingrid seemed inclined to agree with him. "And where have you been? You stink of breather."

"Would you believe me if I said I'd been out on a wild feeding frenzy?"

Ingrid raised an eyebrow, and Vlad sighed and let his head sink back into the sofa cushions, eyes falling closed. "Thought not."

The truth was that he had been out on an errand which just screamed loser. Yes, he was the Grand High Vampire and, yes, technically he could snap his fingers and have any breather brought to him. But, in reality, he was still Vladdy Count, and he didn't think Robin would much appreciate being manhandled halfway across the country anyway.

"Erin and Bertrand stopped by," Ingrid said, rolling the 'r' unattractively. "I told them you were busy."

Vlad stopped himself just in time from pulling a face, he didn't want to give Ingrid the satisfaction. Why should it matter to him that the first love of his life was now setting up home with a vampire whose idea of fun was a communal recitation of appendix XIV of the Council Code of Conduct?

He was being unfair, and he knew it. He and Erin had been too young, and too naive, and Bertrand wasn't so bad when he wasn't trying to drill vampire lore into him. Didn't really make the idea of Erin comparing the two of them any easier though.

Ingrid stood, clicked her fingers for Wolfie to follow her. Vampire senses, Vlad mused with his eyes still shut, were good for something. He heard her footsteps cross the floor, then pause in the open doorway.

"So, tell me. How was Branagh?"

Her laughter echoed all the way down the corridor.

* * *

"Chloe was on the phone earlier," Ian told him as Robin scraped the congealed mass onto plates, wondering how on earth his mam had made the same recipe edible.

"Asked how you were," Paul picked up for him. "If you were seeing anyone."

Robin glared at Ian's snigger but didn't answer, concentrating instead on dishing out cutlery and sliding into his seat. He hated Mondays. Chloe, lucky cow, was off at university, achieving what the rest of them had failed at – getting the hell away from Stokely. He had been jealous at first but now it barely bothered him. It wasn't like he was suddenly going to be beating admirers off with a stick if he moved location.

"We could set you up," Paul went on. "Gary has a cousin like you – into all that goth stuff."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Robin grimaced. He knew the Cooper approach to romance.

"Suit yourself," Ian shrugged and they ate the rest of the meal in silence, not awkward, but not comfortable either. Their father was away on an overnight job, unblocking sinks and fitting toilets, or the other way around. He hadn't really been listening.

"Think about what I said," Paul said later, when the dishes had been cleared and Ian was in the shower. He must not have looked convinced because Paul clapped his shoulder, briefly, and finished, "Beggars can't be choosers, Robin."

"Shall I put you down as 'and guest'?" Erin asked, so earnest that he couldn't even be angry about it. Across the room Ingrid sniggered, and Vlad concentrated on ignoring her. He hadn't promoted her to Chief of Security for her to laugh at him at every available opportunity.

The fact that he hadn't appointed her on merit, and rather as a way to prevent her from attempting to murder him in his sleep was neither here nor there. It was all ancient history now.

Much like his and Erin's relationship. Once they had lived in each other's pocket, sharing dreams and secrets and first times, and pledging each other their forevers. Now she was smiling at him fondly, waiting for him to tell her that, no, he didn't have a date to bring to her and Bertrand's crypt warming.

Every date he had been on in the aftermath had been disastrous, the level of fail only increasing until he was forced to consider the option that perhaps Ingrid was right, and vampiresses really weren't the type he should be going for. So he'd tried it and, of course, it had seemed so obvious he wondered at how it had taken him so long to realize it.

"Bertrand has a cousin," Erin started, because she knew him too well for him to hide what he was thinking from her. "You'd like him."

It was enough for him to fight back, like some double-barreled backbencher picking holes in his breather relations policy.

"I have a date," he lied quickly. "We've just been taking things slowly." It was something of an understatement.

Erin squealed and hugged him. Ingrid made a bad job of hiding her laughter behind her copy of  _Caskets Quarterly_. Vlad smiled weakly and wondered what he was going to do now.

* * *

The stranger didn't turn up the next night, and Robin cursed himself for a fool even as he squirmed in the confines of his freshly ironed shirt. It didn't stop him from fixing his hair more carefully the next day though, or the day after.

Friday saw a complete return to his usual work attire, because Gary's cousin was suddenly looking like an option. His hair was a mess, and his shirt was rumpled. Gary Cooper was on the phone to a girl called Chantelle, and the old man who always smelt of a brewery was snoring in the seat directly behind the driver.

It had been a long boring day and Robin stretched restlessly in his seat, wishing the journey was shorter. He wanted to go home and hole up in his bedroom, the way he had when he was still a teenager and even his mam would knock before fetching him cups of tea.

He'd spent months up there once, some days refusing to leave even to go to school, and they had sent him to see doctors and specialists and child psychologists, who all seemed at a loss as to what to do with him. He had grown out of it, eventually, the fog that permeated all his thoughts and memories, but by that time his mam had been too ill, and he wasn't oblivious to the looks the others sometimes shot his way. The ones that said it was his fault, because if he hadn't been so time consuming, she would have got it checked it out sooner.

"It might never happen," a voice said then, and Robin jumped near out of his skin to find the stranger from earlier in the week next to him. His eyes were a clear blue, and there was a strange inflection to his words. Robin scanned the other man's face, took in the well cut clothing and the glinting ring on his left hand. The insignia matched the one on the ring he had tucked away in the back of his dresser, the ring he only had half memories of finding. The instinctive 'it already has' died in his throat.

"Vlad?"

* * *

Vlad hadn't really set out with much of a plan. He'd sit next to Robin, the way he had the other night after weeks of doing nothing but watching, and scan his face for any sign of recognition. Perhaps Robin would smile at him, ask him if he was staying in Stokely.

They'd meet up, maybe, in some little café and talk like they'd known each other forever. Robin would sit too close, and their fingers would brush accidentally. At some point there might be snogging under a clear moonlit sky accompanied by declarations of heartfelt love. He blamed Erin's choice in movies.

He wasn't prepared for Robin's stunned recognition and attempted a winning smile.

It was misjudged, he could tell from the way Robin shoved him sprawling to the floor of the aisle. He didn't really have chance to question it, because Robin swiftly followed, attempting to land a fist somewhere – anywhere.

"Go for it, son!" An old man crowed from the front of the bus, and the other passengers simply watched on in bemused shock. This wasn't at all what Vlad had envisaged; Erin wasn't into that sort of film.

"What the hell is going on!" the driver yelled as they pulled into a lay-by, and Vlad could see from the confused expression on his face that his reflection was as non-existent as the last time he'd checked in the mirror. He supposed he should be thankful Stokely had yet to find the money to equip the transport network with CCTV cameras.

"He started it," a tracksuited man who reminded Vlad of the twins said, pointing a finger at Robin.

"Get off, both of you," the driver told them, and then to Robin said, "And the only reason I'm not involving the police is your father."

And then they were left in the middle of nowhere, watching as the lights of the bus disappeared into the distance. Vlad doubted it had done anything to endear him to Robin.

"You've got some nerve," Robin spat, and started walking.

* * *

He could hear Vlad falling into step beside him, and he forced himself not to look. To think that he had spent all week making himself look presentable for Vlad. He scowled harder.

Vlad had just upped and abandoned him after wearing the crown, like he was some stupid toy he had grown out of, and Robin couldn't forget the months of depression and confusion. The frustration at not being able to remember anything, the despair that swamped all the gaping holes where his memories ought to be.

They had come back, slowly, and when they did he was half convinced he didn't want them. Vampires, and werewolves, and zombies. It was like he had gone from being potentially insane to having it confirmed for him.

And now Vlad had the gall to simply turn up in Stokely like nothing had happened, looking pale and gorgeous, and smiling at him like they were the best of friends again. It wasn't on. It wasn't fair. It –

He sighed, knowing he couldn't keep it up, curiosity already overpowering the anger.

"What are you doing here?"

They kept walking, and he still didn't look at Vlad, but he could sense some sort of change in Vlad's gait. Like he was relaxing, maybe.

"I wanted to see you."

It was the kind of answer he had used to daydream about, back when his mam was ill and he heard his teachers murmuring about how he'd likely have to change schools or be held back a year. He'd have given anything then for Vlad to turn up and say that to him. Even afterwards, when all he felt was numb, and nothing really registered, it was always Vlad he wished he could talk to. Vlad's voice he wanted to hear every time he answered the telephone.

"I've missed you," Vlad said, quietly, and Robin wished his response could be a no brainer. Instead they carried on walking, nothing but soft footfalls and his own breathing breaking the silence.

* * *

It was a long way, and they ended up sat on a bench in the cold night air, Robin stubbornly refusing to let him just flit them both back to Stokely.

The first time he had loitered long enough to catch sight of Robin his chest had constricted weirdly, like his cold dead heart was trying to kick start or something. Because Robin really had that vampire-with-a-pulse look down to perfection, the one the  _Sunblock_  and his bodyguards couldn't seem to stop raving about. He supposed it was just in his genetics to be helpless in the face of it.

He had made a habit of it after that, and he debated with himself if he should tell Robin that he had been following him on and off for months before working up to getting on the bus with him. He decided that it probably wasn't one of his better ideas.

It was then he noticed that Robin was shivering and he shifted closer before common sense could make him think better of it. He could feel the heat pouring off Robin, despite the chill, and Vlad had to swallow. He hadn't been  _close_  to a breather since he and Erin had called it quits, and he shivered now, at the idea of it.

"You can't just do this to me," Robin told him, not sounding entirely convinced. "You never even sent me a letter."

"I never thought you would remember," Vlad admitted, thinking of all the hours he had spent tossing and turning in his coffin, wondering whether Robin ever spared him a second's thought.

"I didn't at first."

He pressed closer without really thinking about it, waiting for Robin to continue. Even with the intervening years it felt weirdly familiar to sit like this, nothing in the world but him and Robin, at least for that moment.

"Everyone thought I was mad. I thought I was mad."

Robin finally turned to look at him, dark eyes and flushed cheeks. If anyone was mad it was him, Vlad thought. Because the sky was clear, and moonlit, and though it was monumentally stupid, he just couldn't help himself.

Robin didn't pull away, not even when it must have been obvious what was coming, and Vlad groaned low in his throat, touching their lips together even as his arm wound around the other man possessively. Robin kissed him back, after a moment, and it was all Vlad could do to restrain himself from going too far, too fast, and having Robin throw a fist at him.

It was difficult though, and Robin didn't seem inclined to help matters, biting down at his lower lip and clutching him closer, so that he had to bury his nose in the crook of Robin's neck. The scent of warm blood was maddening, and he was aware, dimly, of the pathetic noises he was making.

"This doesn't mean I forgive you," Robin gasped out when Vlad swiped his tongue across his jugular, the words penetrating enough to make him sit back and look Robin in the face, though his body still thrummed impatiently. He sucked in an unnecessary breath, forcing himself to calm down and act rationally.

"I want to make it up to you," he managed, because any lingering doubts he may have had were long gone, and if Robin told him to take a hike he didn't know what he was going to do with himself. The silence stretched, making him nervous, but Robin made no attempt to pull away, and that had to be a good sign.

"Everything's different now," Robin said eventually. "You don't even know me."

"I can learn," Vlad answered, stubborn, sensing that victory was imminent. Robin was pulling the same face that had always meant he had been dealt a bad hand, and Vlad was about to beat him at Sluedo.

Robin kissed him in answer, slow and thorough, and Vlad lingered after getting Robin to let him get them both back to Stokely.

"The twins might see," Robin said after a good ten minutes of saying goodbye on the doorstep. Vlad didn't let up.

"I don't care if you don't."

* * *

It was late when he got back, almost sunrise, and he knew his bodyguards had been following him from the knowing smirks on the less mature faces. Vlad found he didn't care, not really, and he grinned at Ingrid on his way to his coffin, barely fighting back the urge to sing or spin or something as equally graceless.

"He actually agreed to go to the crypt warming?" Ingrid asked, incredulous, because she'd never had any faith in his ability not to send potential partners fleeing for anywhere far away from him.

"Not exactly," Vlad conceded, beaming anyway. "But he'll come round. I'm sure of it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	10. Robin / Bertrand, darkfest fic: any fandom, committed to an asylum.

He has no real plan when he secrets away a little of all that is left of his unlife's purpose, no idea how to revenge this latest humiliation. It isn't until later, alone in the dank corner of the building assigned to him, that Bertrand streaks the dust across the table in front of him and waits for an idea to form. Stares at it unseeingly until his eyes burn.

It mocks him, so mundane and so useless. He thinks of all the lives he has sacrificed for it. The weeping children, and the wailing women. The wizened warriors, and the callous killers. He thinks of his own life last of all, and attempts to remember a time when he was someone else. Before the book, before the mission. Nothing comes to him, and it leaves him feeling strange and hollow, until he drains a bottle of the Count's best vintage and is no longer in the frame of mind to think about it.

The relief is short, and he plots carefully, with all the meticulous cold heartedness that enabled him to survive long enough to resurrect Sethius in the first place. Ingrid is too vain to see past her own scheming, the Count is too stupid. The slayer and Vlad lose themselves in each other until he doubts his own wisdom, but the first meeting is more than enough to convince him.

To use the slayer would be amateur, foolhardy. This way is better, requires more cunning. Had his rivals not fallen victim to their own mistakes, they would have recognized his mark all over it.

It is almost too easy, the way all well thought through plans should be, and Bertrand takes it slow because there is no need to hurry. Vlad trusts him still, treats him like he is of no consequence, and Ingrid begins to drop her guard, content in the knowledge that he has no designs on the Crown of Power.

The boy himself is little as he had been led to think of him, and Bertrand only has to make his visits regular to realise that the real damage has already been done, and that he cannot begin to [claim](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5376537/121/Drabbles) [credit](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5376537/121/Drabbles) for it.

"I'm not afraid of you," he tells Bertrand one night, voice raspy with disuse. Bertrand leans against a white washed wall, folds his arms across his chest and raises an eyebrow,

"I haven't asked you to be."

The silence stretches, cold and sterile, until the boy smiles, changing his face so completely Bertrand thinks of it later, ensconced in his coffin.

"You're my favourite figment of my imagination."

He comes to learn dozens of expressions, and how the glassiness of his eyes relates to the boy's lucidity. He accepts the childish press of bony fingers, and one night, when the nightmares had been plaguing him all day, he presses back until the boy wraps his arms around him, and Bertrand can only imagine how it looks on the CCTV cameras in the watch room.

"You don't need to keep fighting," he's told one night, and the words roll over and over in his mind for weeks to come. Because if he doesn't fight, is there any point in him existing?

Ingrid gains the support of a discontented band of wandering warlocks, and Vlad comes to him for advice so that Bertrand knows the time is right, and that it is time to put the plan into action. The other pieces fall into place without problem, and the stab of something in his chest as he enters the boy's room surprises him. He doesn't feel anything; guilt is for breathers.

"You're early," the boy tells him, and the shadows under his eyes are darker than usual, a sign Bertrand has come to associate with experimental changes to his medication. Disquiet gnaws at the edge of his consciousness but Bertrand ignores it, refusing to entertain the notion that the others had been right, and that without the book he was surplus.

"You're coming with me," he says, and there is no fuss, no struggle, just simple acceptance. He takes the boys hand, feeling the shift of bone and muscle under too thin skin, and meets the dark gaze, knowing that the boy is aware, at least on some level, of what he has planned for him.

Garside Grange is dark when they arrive, but that soon changes, the family thronging to see what he is going to do with his quarry. Vlad takes a step forward, helpless, and the Count rubs his hands together gleefully, watching the entertainment unfold.

"Branagh," Ingrid intones dispassionately, "how delightful."

The vial digs into his skin through his pocket, and though the boy's pulse should be racing it thuds steadily, his reactions muted by the drugs in his system. Bertrand feels his fangs descend, and for the first time questions his control over the situation. It is too late to step back however, because all the groundwork has been laid in readiness. The formula has been brewed, and the spells have been spoken. All that is missing is the blood of an innocent, and all the texts state it should be someone with an emotional connection to the Chosen One.

"Where am I?"

The question is softly spoken, lacking the panic the others are expecting, and he watches Vlad's face crumple when he realises the question isn't meant for him, but for Bertrand. His fingers clench around the boy's shoulders, tight enough to leave bruises, and he begins to chant the flow of necessary words, the taste of blood against his tongue almost tangible.

"What are you doing?" The slayer asks, suspicious, and Bertrand thinks of how much he will enjoy setting Sethius on her when his spirit is once more solidified, this time incapable of disobeying his master.

"You've gone mad," Vlad says, realisation dawning, and Bertrand takes a moment to memorise his horrified expression before sinking his fangs down into pale skin. Vlad's wrong, it's obvious now; he hasn't gone mad.

He was never sane to begin with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	11. Written for the 2011 Gen in January challenge. Prompt #72: Bertrand, Kismet.

Kismet. Fate. Call it what you will.

It hasn't been kind to him.

Bertrand can scarcely remember who he had been before the Praedictum Impaver. It comes to him in dreams, sometimes, flashes of sunlight and smiles, the warmth of having somebody to miss him, the embrace of friends and family.

But perhaps they are not his memories at all, only the images of things he once wished had been. It was too long ago, he cannot remember.

What he knows are the cries of the battlefield; the hysterical prayers and the desperate screams. The gush of blood against his tongue, and the weight of a lifeless body in his arms.

He was chosen for his heartlessness, they once told him. His ability to remain clear headed, and let neither emotion nor bloodlust control him.

Some nights, when the book was restless, and it felt like the walls were closing in on him he held those words dear. He was a warrior, a survivor.

He had been chosen.

He had given everything to his mission. Had searched, endlessly, from one end of the globe to the next, waiting for the day when the true Chosen One would come to him. The book would be opened, and their race would be saved. He would have fulfilled his unlife's purpose.

Except that was not how it happened. It was he who came to the Chosen One, and the boy fought against it, even after he had explained the book's import. Even when it was opened it was an anti-climax, a disappointment.

Sethius had no answers.

And now - now he sits and stares at the pinch of dust upon the table. All that remains of centuries of tears and bloodshed. Of his mission. The others go on as before, ignorant and oblivious. For him there is no such option.

Because without the book, he is nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	12. Bertrand, gen. Written for the multifandom horror comment meme on LJ - 'Sometimes it just feels as if the people in the television are staring at you. And sometimes they really are'.

Bertrand had never been afraid of anything, he had never allowed himself to be. The uncertain thrill he felt the first time he held a telephone receiver in his hand meant nothing, and the shiver that ran down his spine, the first time he entered a moving picture theatre, had been no more than muscle spasm.

Before, before he had been given his mission, and before he had become a vampire, science,  _technology_ , had filled him with morbid curiosity. He had snuck into the lecture theatres, and watched breathlessly as beams of light were split and bodies cut open, all in the name of progress.

Afterwards, when he finally mastered the hunger and most of his rivals had already fallen, the world had changed around him.

There were mechanised boxes that emitted sound, thunderous wagons that ran on rails, and mysterious forces which lit the darkened streets and, when in close contact, affected humans in the same way his own kind reacted to sunlight.

He ought to revel in it, or otherwise hate it for breaking with tradition. Instead he did neither and found himself unable to shun it, though he didn't want to seek it out, either. Things changed quickly, too quickly for a race that lived millennia, and the first time he encountered a moving picture box he crouched over its owner's lifeless body until his eyes felt gritty, staring at it.

It was like they were staring back at him, watching, and before he left the room he couldn't help but take one last look at it, over his shoulder.

The second time there had been no pictures, only static, and he could hear voices, speaking in every tongue he had encountered, like the cries of all the men, women and children he had ever slaughtered. Before he left he had returned to the room and put his foot through the screen, to silence it.

It didn't help, because there were always more and, before he knew it, they had become ubiquitous. They taunted him with all the things he had sacrificed, like light and warmth and friendship, and the faces all peered out at him, accusing.

When Vlad insisted on having one installed, he sat with his palms feeling uncomfortably slick and, in a fit of madness, admitted,

"It feels like they're watching me."

Vlad laughed, as if he had been joking, and Bertrand forced himself to sit still and watch them in return.

Just to prove he wasn't afraid of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	13. Vlad, humour. Written for comment_fic prompt: Vlad, things can always get worse.

Things can always get worse. Hadn’t past experience taught him that?  
  
His mum hadn’t just left; she’d left for a werewolf and tipped off the local Slayer’s Guild.  
  
The Crown hadn’t just destroyed his hopes and dreams; it had lost him his best friend and robbed him of any chance of finding another one.  
  
And Erin hadn’t just laughed at his attempt at a Valentine’s poem; Ingrid had photocopied it and pinned a copy to every school notice board.   
  
“Cheer up, Master Vlad. It might never happen.”  
  
Vlad scowled, settling in to sulk for the duration. “It already has, Zoltan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	14. Vlad, angst. Written for comment_fic prompt: Vlad + his mirror reflections, there will always be a side of him even he doesn't understand.

It doesn’t matter how hard he pretends otherwise, they’re always there, under his skin.   
  
Watching, waiting.   
  
He can feel them when he’s with Erin, the voices in his head that tell him to simply take. To latch onto her jugular and drain her dry. To pin her down and rob her of other things he has no right to.  
  
And he can feel them when he’s with his family, coaxing him to talk back to his father, and encouraging him to force Ingrid into submission. To make her cry, and beg, and grovel, and to wish that, wherever Will is, she could join him.  
  
Even with Bertrand he can feel their anger, their pent up rage that he won’t take what the older vampire is offering. That he keeps fighting against what he could be. His destiny.  
  
They don’t want what he wants. Don’t believe in the things in which he believes. Yet they are a part of him, as much as his unbeating heart or the hair on his head. He no longer has to fight to keep them under control, doesn’t have to worry that they will take over without his say-so.  
  
What frightens him, has him waking up in the middle of the day, shivering in his coffin, is the thought that one day they’ll become him because he  _wants_  them to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	15. Robin, angst. Written for slashthedrabble prompt 'stranger'.

Even in his worst nightmares Vlad had never imagined he'd find himself in this situation. His back pressed against the cold damp wall, the sharpened tip of a stake against his chest.

"Robin," he managed, and his voice didn't sound like his own.

He had dreamt of this moment, coming face to face with Robin. Sometimes Robin hadn't remembered, had greeted him simply like an old acquaintance and Vlad had woken feeling empty somehow, at the idea that the most important friendship he had ever had had simply been wiped from Robin's memory.

Other times Robin knew, and smiled at him like the years in-between had never happened. They laughed and joked and, when he woke, Vlad wished he had the courage to just turn up on the Branaghs' doorstep.

The reality was that Robin sneered, glanced him over like he was something disgusting. "You've no right to play the friends card," Robin told him, tone cold. "Whatever we once were to each other, it was you who didn't want it."

"I did it to protect you," Vlad whispered. Because it was what he told himself, was what made it bearable when he lay in his coffin, eyes clenched shut as he tried to pretend he wasn't crying over the loneliness. Robin shook his head, expression bitter,

"You ruined my life."

He wanted to know, to understand; wanted to have Robin put the stake away so they could sit and talk about it. But Robin only increased the pressure, and behind him Jonno was holding the crossbow level.

"I know you don't want to do this," he said with confidence he didn't feel, bargaining for time. Robin just smiled, though there was nothing friendly about it, tightened his grip and said,

"You've no idea what I want, Vlad. We're strangers."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	16. Becky / Robin. Cracky fic based on the GLC's 'Dolerigger'.

Becky sighed happily, busy etching yet another set of initials onto the back of her week planner.

"Where did you meet him?" Erin asked, because she had seen that expression a hundred times since she had met Becky. She had found a new guy to crush on.

"Harveys," Becky said, positively breathless. Harveys was the upmarket department store in town; Erin had had her eye on a pretty purple scarf in there until she'd seen the price tag. "He asked me out and took me for a meal."

Erin caught Vlad's eye from across the room, knowing full well he could hear every word, and raised an eyebrow. When there was a dull couple of seconds in the Dracula household, Becky's love life never failed to provide them with a few moments of diverting drama.

"Is he really good looking then?" Erin asked, because Becky was so picky, even before she found a reason to dump them.

"Not particularly," Becky smiled at her, eyes shining, "but he is  _loaded_."

* * *

"Eighteen pounds. Eighteen pounds! How can a main course cost eighteen pounds!"

Ian laughed, gleeful at the sight of his suffering. Paul shook his head and grinned,

"Don't you think you're punching above your weight there, Robin?"

Robin scowled. She had been well into him, he could tell; she had kept playing with her hair, and she hadn't given him a fake phone number.[  
](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5376537/116/Drabbles)

"They're all posh English birds 'round here," Darren said, dunking another biscuit into his tea and scoffing it in one mouthful. "High maintenance."

Mike, the eldest of the group, put down his cutlery, "Nothing wrong with being English." He was from around here, and it had been how they had heard about the job. There just wasn't enough work in Stokely at the moment, not since the castle had burned down and BBC Wales' special crime report had branded the town a black spot.

"Nah," Paul agreed as he stood up, shrugging back into his hi-vis vest, "plenty wrong with being posh though. She ain't gonna see you again."

"We've already arranged it, actually," Robin shot back, wanting to wipe the smirk off his brother's face.

"Keep telling yourself that," Mike said. "Now come on, lads, those fancy toilets aren't going to plumb themselves in."

* * *

It had been over a week and Becky's mystery man was still holding her interest. Erin sometimes wished that she could pick and choose like that, though it wasn't something she felt the need to broadcast.

Vlad was sat with them in the canteen, nursing a drink for her benefit. It was like he could read her mind, because there was mischief in his eyes when he said too casually,

"Erin said you've got a new boyfriend, Becky."

Becky's face lit up and Erin bit back a groan. He knew how little she wanted to hear it all over again.

"He's taking me to  _Ice_ , says he can get us in, no problem," Becky swooned, like Vlad would know that was the swanky new cocktail bar where you couldn't get a drink for under a tenner. "And then, last night, when I was on my way home from boxercise, I saw him driving a  _Mercedes Benz_. Can you believe it? He's only our age."

For the first time Erin felt a twinge of unease at the tale. Slayer training had taught her to notice when something didn't add up – and the calculations based on this story were all over the place.

* * *

"She thought it was  _your_  car?" Paul asked, incredulously.

"Haha," Darren laughed. "Quality!"

"Can we 'ave some peace and quiet?" Ian groaned. "My head is banging."

They had gone out the night before with some of Mike's mates, and Robin had drawn the short straw and been designated driver. He had known it was coming though, and Mike's old school friend had let him drive his posh car, and given him some free drinks vouchers for the new cocktail bar and promised to have a word with the bouncer, into the bargain.

It wasn't so bad this, not really. It was cash in hand, and better than sitting at home and listening to his mam's nagging all day. His dad would be disappointed that it hadn't made him change his mind about going into an apprenticeship though.

Drowning in the canal still looked like a better career option.

He'd always felt like that though, unable to settle with what he had, dissatisfied. Especially the last few years. It was like something was missing, something important that he just couldn't quite remember.

"Stop wool gathering," Mike's voice cut through his self reflection, "and get some bloody work done!"

* * *

"Where does he get the money from?" Erin asked, watching as Becky applied another coat of lip gloss and pouted into the bathroom mirror.

"I don't know," Becky shrugged, moving onto her mascara. "Maybe he's a drug dealer."

"Becky!" Erin said, sharply. "You can't joke about something like that. You barely know this guy; do you really think it's a good idea to go tonight? He could be a serial killer."

The rant had come from nowhere, but she  _was_ worried. Because, while she might spend her time with a bunch of bloodthirsty vampires, at least she had had training to deal with it.

Becky didn't take it well, turned around to scowl at her. "You're just jealous that Vlad's idea of a romantic date is sitting in the library, doing your homework."

"That's not true!" Erin protested, based more on principle than on factual evidence, but Becky had already gathered her things together and was flouncing towards the door.

"I'm going, and I don't care what you think about it."

* * *

"She won't leave me alone," Robin said, taking the drastic decision to just switch his phone off. "I mean, she's fit an' that, but I can't take it."

Ian shook his head in amusement, "I can't believe  _you've_  pulled a gold digger."

"We're going home on Monday," Darren offered.

Robin shook his head, "Yeah, but she won't stop ringing me. I can't afford to get out of this contract!"

"That's it!" Paul exclaimed, mouth hanging open with the shock of having thought up an idea, Robin thought viciously. "She thinks you're posh and rolling in it, yeah?"

"Yeah?" Robin answered, slowly.

"Well," Paul said, beaming at his own genius, "meet up with her like she wants but don't make any effort. Just wear your work clothes and take her to McDonalds."

Robin felt his own jaw drop. "Paul, I never thought I'd say this to you, but – that's an awesome idea!"

* * *

"Erin," Vlad said, tone determined, "I don't want to spend my only free evening following Becky and her latest," he hooked his fingers in the air, "conquest around."

"Vlad,"Erin said in a tone that reminded Vlad entirely too much of his sister. "I just know something's going to happen, I have a really bad feeling."

She could tell that Vlad was unconvinced, but she wasn't going to just sit back and do nothing. She had overheard Becky on the phone, the volume loud enough to hear the male voice on the other end of the line. He had sounded too pleased with himself, like he was plotting something.

"What if it were the other way round," she said, going in for the kill, "and Becky wanted you to check things out because she was worried for me."

Vlad sighed but her victory was clear. "Alright," he said, "I'll meet you by the gate at seven."

* * *

Robin eyed up his reflection in the mirror. He was wearing a pair of Ian's old tracksuit bottoms, because they looked so much more disgusting than his own. There was a tear in the thigh, and paint splattered all over the bottoms. Paul had donated a faded Stokely Sanitation polo shirt, and he had his own filthy work boots.

"Take these," Darren said as he made for the door, handing out a book of McDonalds discount vouchers. Robin took them and grinned,

"She might want glamour but I'm telling you this, if she thinks she's using my cash then she's taking the piss."

* * *

Erin tucked her chin down into her scarf, hoping they looked inconspicuous. It was kind of difficult with Vlad dressed head to toe in leather, having come straight from training.

Across the road she could see Becky, dressed up to the nines and shifting from foot to foot in her high heels, trying to keep from freezing. Erin wondered what this guy would look like, he had to be more than passable for Becky to have even deigned to speak to him.

She didn't have chance to wonder for long because, though she hadn't given the hooded figure more than a 'he's not carrying a weapon' confirming second glance, Becky had taken a step back when he stopped in front of her, looking absolutely horrified.

Vlad nodded tightly when she looked at him, and they crossed the road hurriedly, because who knew what the man might be planning. Except when they got there he was laughing, genuinely and not in a mad, drug addled kind of way.

"I said that I was here for work," he was saying. "Not what kind of work."

Erin looked him over properly for the first time. He looked like a builder, though he didn't really have the frame for it, and his hair was too long and flicked out in a way that hadn't been achieved by just towelling it dry and running a comb through it. She opened her mouth to explain, to help wipe the suspicious look off Becky's face, and apologise for running over like this boy was about to kill her when Vlad suddenly stepped forward.

" _Robin_."

The boy – Robin – gaped at him for a second before grinning widely and hugging him.

"Vlad! I can't believe it."

"You're friends with Vlad," Becky said, crossing her arms across her chest and pulling a face. "I should have known." She hadn't forgiven Vlad for turning her down and kicking her out that time, no matter how many timesErinsaid it had all been a giant misunderstanding, right from the beginning.

Erin tried to be a good friend and be comforting, because she wasn't exactly sure what was going on, but Becky held a hand up and said,

"I don't want to talk about it. I'll see you in school on Monday."

"What was that about?" she asked.

"What are you doing here?" Vlad added, more enthusiastically. "And  _what_  are you wearing!"

Robin just grinned at them and held up a fistful of McDonalds vouchers,

"Dinner's on me, let's go and 'ave a catch up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	17. Vlad / Bertrand. Written for smallfandomfest 10 prompt: Vlad learns that it isn't only Erin who can be distracting...

Delila was sneaky, cruel and completely self centred. She knew exactly what she wanted, and didn't care who she stepped all over to get it.

She reminded him in many ways of his sister and Vlad supposed that that was never a good basis for a relationship. It was only afterwards, when Robin promised they'd never break friends over a girl again, he realised that perhaps he had had his own ulterior motive.

* * *

Robin had asked him once, holed up in his tower bedroom back in Stokely, what his dream girl would be like. Robin had lovingly described Ingrid and then, when it was his turn, Vlad had blushed and said the kind of things he imagined might be expected of him.

Long hair, and lip gloss, like the girl from the year above Robin's brother had dated. Robin had seen straight through him, without understanding  _why_ , and laughed and mocked and teased him, until Vlad had stomped his foot and thrown Robin's favourite cross pendant through the unglazed window.

They rarely argued, never fought, and Robin told him he was an idiot and that he hoped his transformation did prove too much for him. He called Robin a weirdo in response, and said that if it weren't for him Robin would never have had any friends, and that he would never make any new ones, either.

Ingrid had sniggered later, when Robin had slammed the front door and gone home for the evening, and smirked as she said,

"So, I see you've inherited the Dracula charm, Vlad."

They made up, like they always did but it didn't matter in the end, not really. Because Robin never twigged and then it was too late, because he was the Chosen One, and the Crown had called him and, before he even had chance to say goodbye, they were thousands of miles away from Stokely.

* * *

Erin was pretty, really really pretty. She had blonde hair, and blue eyes, and didn't need any of Ingrid's pots and potions to put colour in her cheeks. She didn't ask him endless stupid questions, and was even appreciative of him saving her life on occasion.

Erin didn't laugh at his hopes and dreams like Robin, and she wasn't just using him for her own ends like Delila.

At least that's what he had thought when they started it.

They went on dates, and held hands and, sometimes, they sat alone in Erin's bedroom and kissed each other. As if they could ignore all of their problems, just for a moment, and keep the rest of the world out.

"You're not a monster," she told him once, after he'd caused havoc and attempted to kill his own sister. "You never will be." She couldn't know that, so the words meant nothing, but, for years to come, he clung to them anyway,

Erin hadn't meant to deceive him, not really, and Vlad meant it when told her that they would still be friends, and that he would protect her.

He was glad, still, that she didn't get round to asking if he was able to forgive her.

* * *

Bertrand was infuriating. Appeared out of thin air and expected him to do everything he told him. Vlad fought against it at first, refused point blank to buckle down and spent his time with his head in the clouds, daydreaming about Erin instead.

"You are distracted," Bertrand told him, tone dripping with disapproval, and Vlad shrugged and apologised half-heartedly. Bertrand was like his mother, always on his case and nagging. Then his actual mother turned up and Bertrand didn't seem half bad in comparison.

In fact, Vlad started to notice a whole load of things about Bertrand. The way he half smiled when Vlad said something particularly funny, or the way his own stomach fluttered when he did something well, and Bertrand pressed a hand to his shoulder to praise him.

He realised then that he knew very little about the older vampire and began fishing, deliberately. Sometimes Bertrand indulged him, told him stories of bloody battles and fantastical spectacles. Other times Bertrand refused to be drawn, remained stubbornly calm and polite and evasive until Vlad gave in, and changed the subject.

They grew closer over books and research and training, and somewhere along the line Vlad stopped resenting the time they had to spend together and started looking forward to it. There were slip ups, and set backs, and misunderstandings but, in the end, they both came through the other side, stronger.

Bertrand was the one person he didn't try to kill, or even to humiliate, while under the control of his reflections. Later, when he wandered the darkened streets trying to regain control, to understand himself, he came to a conclusion about the reason why.

He didn't trust Bertrand, because he wasn't entirely sure he trusted anyone. And it wasn't as if he  _loved_ Bertrand, because he wasn't that much of an idiot. But he respected him, as a human and as a vampire, and that was something he had never had a lot of experience with.

"I always knew she was trouble," Bertrand said after Erin had left, and Vlad accepted the words for what they were. An apology. Ingrid, not quite able to keep up appearances, smiled too sweetly and said,

"I just thought you were jealous."

Bertrand kept quiet, but looked away and Vlad wondered how he had managed to be as oblivious as he had always accused Robin of being.

It wasn't immediate, and it wasn't easy. He couldn't give up his dreams of vampire / breather co-operation, and Bertrand wasn't willing to live off soy substitute. He was never going to be a model student, and Bertrand didn't need rescuing. Somehow none of it seemed to matter.

"Were you really jealous?" He asked after giving in and kissing him because, if he couldn't control himself, then he might as well get as much as he could out of it. Bertrand simply smirked at him, smug and pleased and still infuriating, but his tone was laced with a real smile as he said,

"How many times do I have to tell you; honesty is unbecoming on a vampire."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	18. Robin / Vlad, Christmas sap.

"Is it alright?"

"Vlad," Robin grinned up at him, "it's  _awesome_!" Vlad blushed but smiled back as Robin put the cape on, fussing with first the collar, and then his hair, in the mirror. "'Ow do I look? Do you think I'd make a good vampire?"

"A better one than I will," Vlad said quietly.

Robin shot him a look that said 'don't be stupid' and scrabbled through the piles of clothes and junk on the floor, finally extracting a bundle of wrapping paper and sellotape, and slumping back onto the bed. Robin held it out to him, his expression uncharacteristically anxious,

"I didn't know what to get you."

Vlad looked at him curiously but took the package from him. The fact that it was from  _Robin_  was more than enough to ensure its position as the best present he'd ever received. But, he supposed, it was probably for the best if Robin didn't know that. He tore at the wrapping paper, unable to hold back the undignified squeal as its contents were revealed,

"Mr. Cuddles!"

"Yeah, sorry, he looks a bit," Robin motioned at the lumpy stuffing and messy stitching, "worse for wear. I 'ad to get my mam to show me 'ow to sew it. I couldn't just get her to do it, she would have wanted to know why and got the wrong idea and –"

"You did all that just for me?" Vlad cut him off, looking from the scuffed plastic of Mr. Cuddles' eyes to Robin's faint blush and long, dark lashes.

"You're my best mate, Vlad." Robin met his gaze seriously, "I'd do anything for you." He gave him a lopsided smile, "I know I'm a berk sometimes, but I don't mean it."

Robin lifted his hand hesitantly, placing it on top of his own, and Vlad felt his heart pound, "I don't know what I'd do if you weren't around."

Vlad shifted closer, the wrapping paper strewn all over the bed crinkling as he moved, and touched his fingertips to Robin's flushed cheek. Robin's eyes slid shut, his head tilting slightly in anticipation, and Vlad smiled. This was, without doubt, the best moment of his life so far.

He pressed his lips to Robin's carefully, lingering for a long moment before pulling back and waiting for Robin to meet his gaze.

"You'll never have to find out; I promise," grinning he wrapped his arms around Robin's shoulders, "You can't get rid of me that easily."

Robin grinned back and, as the soft strains of Christmas carols filled the air, Vlad was certain that, no matter what, he'd always feel the same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	19. Chloe / Vlad.

"Aw, what's the point!?" Robin threw his pen down onto the kitchen table, pushing his hands into his hair in frustration, "When am I _ever_  going to use trigonometry? I won't even 'ave to count." He glared at Chloe, "I've got a calculator!"

"Look, it's easy – "

"It's not easy! We're not all  _Little Miss Genius_." Robin scowled and pushed back from the table, glowering at his maths textbook like it had personally wounded him, "I'm going on the computer. Vlad, are you coming?"

Vlad shook his head, and kept his gaze on his exercise book, hoping Robin wouldn't pry into his reasons why. Luck was on his side as Robin hmphed and 'fine'-d and stropped from the room without a backwards glance.

Once Robin was gone Vlad shot Chloe a shy smile, "I'm really grateful you're doing this, even if Robin isn't."

"Robin," Chloe said, pulling a face, "is an idiot. You can't teach somebody who doesn't want to learn."

"I do though. Want to learn, I mean." Vlad swallowed, unsure if he'd really have the nerve to get the whole sentence out, "I was wondering if, maybe, you'd like to come round tomorrow and help me. Only if you want to," he added hastily as she frowned, "I'd just, well," he could feel the blush spreading across the face and trailed off, "really like it."

"Vlad," she started, searching his face, "are you trying to ask me out?"

"What? Me? Ask you out?" He tried to bluster through it before giving up. "Yeah." He looked away, "I know, you're not interested in weird vampire stuff." He sighed, "Or weird soon-to-be vampires." She'd made it clear often enough; he just wished his brain would do a better job of taking the fact on board.

He startled as warm fingers curled with his own, where his hand was resting against the table top. "I'd like it too, Vlad. Honest."

Vlad smiled widely at her, heart fluttering at the smile he got in return, and squeezed at her hand for a moment.

"But first," Chloe's tone was once more business like, and she extricated her fingers, although he could still see a touch of pink in her cheeks, "I think you'll find that side PQ is  _not_  eight centimetres."

Vlad just grinned and picked his pen back up. He  _loved_  trigonometry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	20. Dracula family, gen.

"Vlad!" The Count's voice echoed throughout the castle, "Vlaaaaaaad!"

Vlad restrained himself – just – from stomping his foot in frustration and made his way down the stairs of the crypt. What he saw once he got there had him shaking his head. The Count was propped up in a half sitting position, surrounded by pillows and blankets. To his right was the television, Renfield having strained muscles he hadn't known he had carrying it down to him. To his left was a small table full of small jars of blood, Renfield sat next to it, head lolling as he snored. Vlad pulled a face,

" _What?_ "

"Ah, yes, there you are." The Count frowned and elbowed the pillow behind him into a more comfortable position. "About time!" He gestured at the television, "Change the tele-vision announcement, there's a good boy."

"Dad," Vlad started testily, "We've been through this." He stormed forward and snatched up the remote control from where it lay on the coverlet. "You can turn the TV over with  _this_. You can even ask Renfield to do it." He jabbed a finger in Renfield's direction. "You don't need me to come and do it for you!"

The Count peered at the remote control for a moment; raising an eyebrow as he realised Vlad was telling the truth. Vlad turned to leave only to be called back,

"Yes, well, never mind about that. Don't you want to keep your father company?"

Vlad threw up his hands in exasperation. "No!" He sighed, "I  _want_  to go and see Robin."

"But I'm  _dying!"_  The Count cried mournfully, coughing into his fist. "I'm not long for this world, I'm fading away… I can feel death's bony hand reaching for me!"

Vlad counted to ten in his head, trying to control his temper. "You're not dying," he said in clipped tones. "You're already dead."

The Count carried on as if he hadn't heard. "If only I had known about it sooner. There's so much I haven't done. I've never danced naked in the blood of a nubile virgin, Vlad!"

"Thanks for that image, dad," Vlad ground out. "Anything else before I go?"

The Count coughed again, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead like something out of the old films Robin insisted they watch. "I shan't be here when you return. There will be nothing but dust lining this coffin. The earthly remains of the most handsome vampire to ever stalk this cold, barren world."

"Right," Vlad glanced at his watch, "that's great. Try not to make too much of a mess, I'll be home by twelve."

"Vlad!" The Count watched him go in shock. " _Vladimir_!"

"Oh, is daddy feeling poorly?" Ingrid asked in mock concern the second he emerged from the stairwell. "Is little Vladdy-kins going to nurse him all better?"

Vlad glared at her. "I'm going out. Can't you just tell him you were joking?"

"No," Ingrid said simply, toeing the bloodless pig carcass they had found the Count with at breakfast. She smirked, waving a copy of the  _Stokely Gazette_  in front of his face emblazoned with the headline 'Swine Flu Claims Life',

"I'm having way too much fun!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	21. 10 word fic challenge.

**1\. Angst**

"No-one loves me."

Ingrid snorted, "Can you blame them?"

**2\. AU**

"I'm telling you, Vlad," Robin whispered, "Van Helsing's a vampire!"

**3\. Crack!fic**

"You. And Renfield. In lust?"

"Yes," came the lecherous reply.

**4\. Crossover ( x Twilight)**

"Why can't you do that?"

Vlad scowled, "Draculas  _don't_  sparkle."

**5\. First Time**

"We'll get caught!"

"We won't!"

Van Helsing smirked, "Truanting, boys?"

**6\. Fluff**

"Count, you freak!"

Robin touched his hand, " _My_  freak."

**7\. Humour**

"Ingrid loves me."

"No, Ingrid loves me."

"Are you blind?"

**8\. Hurt/Comfort**

"I'm a monster!"

"Vlad," Robin placated. "You're not  _that_  ugly."

**9\. Smut**

" _Vlad_ ," Robin whined, writhing beneath him, "Please. Bite me."

**10\. UST**

"You can, if you want."

Vlad swallowed;  _don't tempt me_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	22. Robin / Vlad, H/C. Inspired by a local texting while driving campaign vid.

"Yeah, right," Ian scoffed. "Like a fit girl would be texting you."

"She is!" Robin protested, leaning forward in the cramped confines of Paul's car to hand his brother his mobile phone.

"Bloody hell!" Ian said. "Bruv, 'ave a look at this!"

Paul took it, eyes flickering between the road and the screen. Robin smirked smugly; they'd have to take back all their teasing. Delila wasn't just texting him, she was sending photos and inviting him round to hers;  _and_  her parents were away.

"Sure it's not just Vlad in disguise?" Paul grinned, scrolling through his inbox.

"Don't be such a dick!" He spat, reaching to grab his phone from Paul.

He never got chance. There was swerving, and the sound of Paul cursing the air blue and, then, nothing.

* * *

 

"Robin said he'd be here by now," Vlad sighed despondently, glancing at his wristwatch.

"I hear he's got himself a girlfriend," Ingrid said, beaming at the sight of his unhappiness. "Can't blame him for giving you the brush-off for her." She shrugged, "Or anyone."

Vlad scowled. "She's not even nice to him. I mean, what has she got that I haven't?"

Ingrid sneered at him, "I hope that's a rhetorical question. Or," she put on the voice she saved especially for mocking him with, "am I going to have to teach you about the difference between little boys and little girls?"

"You think you're – " he was interrupted by a banging at the door and he grinned triumphantly. "That'll be him now."

* * *

 

"Vlad," Mrs. Branagh managed, her face pale and drained. She started sobbing into one hand and he resisted the urge to demand somebody tell him what was going on. Instead he asked quietly,

"Is he – Has he – " He couldn't get the word out, couldn't even bear to think it. He'd once told Robin that his life wouldn't be worth living without him. It was still true.

Mr. Branagh put a comforting hand on his wife's back, although he looked like he might crumble at any moment himself. "They're operating now." He swallowed, visibly shaking, "on all three of them."

Chloe clutched his arm, burying her face in his shoulder, and he let her. Led her to the uncomfortable plastic chairs and sat numbly, fighting the treacherous voices in his head.

He'd never forgive himself either way.

* * *

 

" _Robin_ ," he whispered, when they finally let him in, voice unsteady at the sight in front of him. Robin looked so pale, so helpless. The starched white sheet was pulled to his chin, tubes and wires everywhere. The relief the blip of the heart monitor inspired was enough to make him feel he might cry.

He collapsed into the chair next to the bed and reached a hand out tentatively, there didn't seem to be anywhere he could touch Robin that wasn't swaddled in bandage or gauze or plaster cast. Finally he settled for touching fingertips to Robin's cheek for a moment, the heat reassurance that Robin hadn't given up.

"Vlad," Chloe put a hand on his shoulder, tone soft, "it's almost dawn."

He bit at his lip and watched the machine breathe for Robin.

"What if he," his voice caught, " _dies_  when I'm not here? What if I could stop it?"

Chloe shook her head. "It's not the answer Vlad."

Vlad watched for a long, silent moment, before clenching his eyes tight shut and making reluctantly for home.

* * *

 

It didn't happen that day, or the next, and by the end of the week, when Ian and Paul were both able to sit up they finally took Robin off the respirator. Vlad sat with him every spare moment he could, getting the Council to forge him official Romanian medical records that convinced the hospital to let Robin spend large chunks of the day with the curtains tight shut, basked in artificial light.

Delila moved on to her next conquest and Mr. Branagh started the lengthy legal wrangling over insurance. The twins went home and Mrs. Branagh washed and ironed Robin's entire wardrobe, scouring every inch of his vacant bedroom.

Vlad talked and talked until his throat was raw, sobbed and sobbed until it felt like he couldn't possibly have any tears left to cry. The casts came off and the jagged patch of shaved hair at his temple grew back.

And still Robin didn't wake up.

* * *

 

The nothingness stretched on and on and on, so that he almost couldn't remember it had ever been any other way. But, then, there were noises, soft murmurs that he couldn't understand but was certain he didn't want to end.

At first they were rare, fleeting. Slowly, everything seeming like it was moments and forever at the same time, they began to come more frequently. The soothing sound washing over him and making him feel safe.

Eventually the noises started to make sense, flashes of light in the enforced darkness, with words like 'love' and 'please' and 'forever'. When they came he wanted to know more, wanted to be able to respond but, too soon, they would be gone and he'd be alone in the nothingness once more.

Vlad, he realised finally, the murmurs and the meanings and the icy touch he felt even through the nothingness. Vlad.

* * *

 

"And Ingrid said she was thinking of you too," Vlad paused, pulling a speculative face, "Well, I mean, she didn't, but she would have if she stopped thinking about herself for more than three minutes. But you know what she's like, she's –"

Speech failed him, his useless breath hitching as his gaze locked with dark brown eyes. "Robin," he finally stuttered, reaching for him, fingers trembling violently.

Robin tried to speak, the wet sound of swallowing filling the silence and Vlad felt a hysterical laugh burgeoning in his throat, even as tears were slipping silently down his cheeks. He swiped at his face, smiling and sobbing all at the same time as he worked out the word Robin was trying to form.

"I'm here," he choked out, "and I'm never going anywhere."

* * *

 

"Don't give me that look," Vlad said fondly, beaming all across his face, "You know you have to do it."

"But I'm tired," Robin protested, but shifted to the edge of the bed dutifully all the same, calves shaking at the unfamiliar press of weight as he tried to stand. He gritted his teeth, limbs feeling heavy and detached from his body.

Vlad hovered anxiously, afraid to take his eyes off Robin for a moment, lest something awful happen. Robin took an awkward step, and then another, face screwing up with the effort. Finally he judged Robin had done enough and wrapped a supportive arm around him, letting him rest all his weight against him.

Sat back on the bed, Robin stared up at him, eyes wide and trusting and Vlad sat next to him, taking Robin's hand in his own.

"You're not going to give up on me, are you?" Robin said, tone slightly disbelieving. "You really meant everything you said."

Vlad smiled crookedly, "I love you. I'm not going anywhere." He reached his other hand to Robin's nape, staring deeply into the eyes he'd feared he'd never see again, "Not even if you want me to."

"So I'm stuck with you?" Robin whispered, squeezing his hand.

"Terrible, isn't it?"

Robin smiled, moving his head closer, brushing their lips together,

"I get all the luck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	23. Vlad / Jonno, angst. Slashtheimage drabble.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Vlad said, looking at the golden leaves strewn everywhere.

"No," Jonno responded, sneering as he looked him up and down. "It's all rotten and dead. Like you."

"If that's how you feel," Vlad narrowed his eyes, wondering why he'd ever agreed to this meeting in the first place, and turned to leave.

"Count –  _Vlad_ ," Jonno ground out in frustration, one hand clamping around his arm, "Wait."

He barely had time to glare before Jonno's mouth was on his and Vlad knew why he'd agreed, kept on agreeing. He might be dead, but Jonno made him feel  _alive_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	24. Robin / Vlad. Request from misterfist: I want you to write a cute, slashy oneshot about Robin and Vlad visitng a convention.

"We've still got time," Robin told him, glancing at his watch, "it won't take you that long to get changed."

Vlad schooled his face into what he hoped was a nonchalant expression. Not a look of horror. Of all the things he didn't want to do right now, getting changed into his costume was up there with feeding on the blood of an innocent. Robin, as usual, was completely oblivious to his discomfort. He shrugged,

"It's alright, I'll do it there."

"Suit yourself."

Robin had been his best friend ever since he had moved to Stokely, and Vlad felt guilty for hoping the other people at the train station didn't realise they were together. The cape, he could have coped with. For the first year of their friendship Robin had insisted on wearing a cape to school everyday.

In truth he had worn it  _everywhere_. On one memorable occasion – not memories Vlad liked to look back on, but memorable all the same – Robin had even worn a cape swimming.

The point was that he'd had plenty of time to get used to it.

No, it was the face paint that was causing the problem. The horribly realistic blood smeared down the other boy's chin and across his pale throat.

Robin flashed a grin at an old lady shuffling past, plastic fangs glinting in the morning sunlight, and Vlad cringed. What had he let himself in for?

* * *

The train was only twenty minutes late, punctual by Stokely standards, and Robin finally spat the fangs into his hand and shoved them in his pocket as it pulled into the station. Vlad dared to hope the day wouldn't be too bad. Once they got to Cardiff it wasn't a long walk to the convention centre.

It's always a bad idea to get complacent, Vlad had learned.

As they were clambering onto the train someone shoved between them, nearly sending Vlad face first into the carriage wall.

"It's not Halloween yet, Branagh!"

Vlad regained his balance and glared at first the owner of the voice, then the two boys sniggering either side of him. Richard Price, Andrew Davis and Tommo Watson. They were in the same registration class as he and Robin. Now  _everybody_  would know.

It wasn't a nice thought.

"This do it for you, does it, Count?" Price smirked, jerking his head in Robin's direction. "Bit of nephrophilia, eh?"

The term was 'necrophilia', but Vlad didn't think this was the time to point it out. Instead he squared his shoulders, wishing his own cape weren't weighing down his backpack, like a millstone around his neck. "Shove off, Price."

"Yeah," Robin joined in, brow creasing in distaste, "shove off."

There was a click and a flash, Watson grinning all over his face as he waved the phone in front of their faces on his way past.

"Gladly."

* * *

"This is going to be so awesome, Vlad!" Robin told him the instant they stepped off the train. "Do you want to go and get changed now?"

" _No_."

"You're not still upset about Price, are you?" Robin gave him a sly smile, "It was true anyway. Vampires are dead."

Vlad scowled.  _Undead_. There was a world of difference. Besides, vampiresses were just as bad as human girls. Sticking their noses up in the air as soon as they clapped eyes on him. At least the humans sometimes felt guilty about it.

Robin gave him a friendly nudge, leading the way out of the bustling station. "You'll love it when we get there, you can meet all my friends."

Vlad bit at his lip, resisting the urge to comment. Nobody knew Robin better than he did; they spent almost all their free time together. Robin didn't have any other friends. At least, he had thought that Robin didn't have any other friends. Vlad wasn't at all sure he liked the idea.

It only took about ten minutes to reach their destination although, to Vlad, it felt more like an hour. An hour of people staring and pointing and laughing. He didn't know why he had agreed to go with Robin in the first place, he didn't even like comics. Then Robin beamed at him, happy and excited, and his treacherous heart stuttered in his chest.

He could never refuse Robin anything.

And, worst of all, Robin seemed to know it.

* * *

"Vampire or Slayer?"

"Sorry!?" Vlad squeaked, glancing up at the disinterested looking girl on the door in shock. What sort of place was this? She sighed and shook her head, speaking slowly as if were an imbecile,

"Which team are you on, vampire or slayer?"

"Vampire!" Robin answered for him, holding his own hand out eagerly for a badge. "This is so cool!"

"Yeah," the girl rolled her eyes and slapped two badges into Robin's upturned palm. Vlad gave her an apologetic look before scurrying after Robin. What he saw when he entered the main hall almost had his jaw on the floor. Suddenly Robin looked like one of the most normal people in the room.

There were girls with luminous hair and dayglo clothing, boys wearing cloaks and carrying, what looked to Vlad, like downright dangerous weaponry.

"Over here!" Robin exclaimed, dragging him by the arm over to a group of especially outlandishly dressed kids. There was a lot of excitable hand shaking and back slapping, Vlad shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot as he watched on. He could barely believe it but  _he_  felt like the odd one out, conspicuous in his jeans and sweater.

A boy with hair spiked in all directions sneered over Robin's shoulder, looking him up and down. It reminded Vlad of the look Price had given Robin earlier. He thought of the cape balled up in his bag and made a decision.

* * *

Vlad gave his reflection an appraising look. And not just to make the most of the ability. The high collar of his cape made his cheekbones look sharper, the smudges of Ingrid's borrowed eyeliner made his whole appearance look different. More like the posters lining Robin's bedroom wall Vlad thought with a hint of triumph.

He imagined the look on the spiky haired boys' face when he re-emerged and bit at his lip. It would be a really stupid thing to do, he knew. If anyone realised it could be a total disaster. But…

Glancing quickly at the door, wanting the reassurance that nobody was watching, he prodded at his teeth, the pad of his thumb pressed to the tip of his canine. It took a lot of concentration; last time he had tried he had just ended up with chronic toothache.

After a long minute of prodding and frowning and more prodding it was done. He grinned.

Robin was going to be  _so_  impressed.

* * *

He found Robin queuing to get something signed by someone he'd never heard of. The kids from earlier were crowded close around him, all comparing the artwork of the comics they'd brought with them.

When Vlad approached they fell gratifyingly silent, taking in his makeover.

" _Nice_  cape!" One girl told him in a thick Bristol accent and Vlad smiled in thanks, well aware his fangs were on show.

This time it was Robin's jaw that went slack. It made Vlad's stomach squirm, to know that all Robin's attention was fixed intently on  _him_. Robin leaned in close, Vlad breathing in the scent of Robin's aftershave and fake blood, voice lowering,

"Are those real?"

Vlad nodded. He felt strangely confident, at home – for what seemed like the first time ever – in the sort of clothing he was supposed to wear, hyper aware of the admiring glances he was earning from the throngs of people.

Robin was breathing quickly, eyes shining. "You never told me you could do that."

There was the barest hint of accusation and Vlad was reminded forcibly of why he had been keeping it from Robin in the first place. Robin would want him to bite him.

And Vlad was never sure he'd have the willpower to say no.

* * *

They'd been walking around for hours when Robin finally consented to let them go and find something to eat. Hours of trying not to blush every time he caught Robin staring at him. He wondered if this was how Robin felt – he spent a lot of time staring at Robin.

"What do you think?" Robin asked once they'd acquired some food, "Bad as you thought it'd be?"

"I didn't think it would be bad," Vlad protested around a mouthful of food. Sometimes lying was the lesser evil.

"Vlad," Robin gave him an exasperated look, the dark painted circles beneath his eyes and the blood on his chin making it look strange, "I can read you like a book."

That was a laugh, Vlad thought. If Robin had any idea what was going on his head he probably wouldn't be leaning against him as they sat eating. It made him almost angry, that he could be torn apart with emotion whilst Robin was clueless.

Robin gave him a speculative look, lingering on his mouth.  _Fangs_ , Vlad amended.

"You know earlier," Robin started, swallowing the last of his dinner, "was Price right? Do you only fancy other vampires?"

Vlad frowned, he hadn't been expecting that. "No. Why would you think that?"

Robin shrugged, "You just never like anyone at school."

"I do!" Vlad protested, a little too vehemently. Robin's gaze grew more intense, searching. Vlad felt his heart pounding in his chest; his palms were damp with sweat.

"You never like any of the girls," Robin said carefully, leaning closer. Vlad swallowed thickly. If Robin got much closer they would almost be kissing. He wondered dimly if Robin would taste of fake blood or coke and fries. Robin's expression turned nervous then, "Please don't tell me I'm making a fool of myself, Vlad."

There was that pleading look, the one that had made him agree to this outing in the first place and Vlad tried and failed to force his voice to work, his mouth working but no sound escaping. Robin went to look away and panic flooded through him, a rush of adrenaline sending a hand to Robin's nape, lips crashing clumsily together.

Robin's hand clutched at his arm and he started kissing back, the relief making Vlad smile into it.

When they finally broke apart Robin was smiling too, cheeks dimpled and the mischievous glint in his eye that always spelled trouble. Vlad raised an eyebrow in question and Robin inclined his head towards the mirrored strip of wall behind them, bursting into laughter as Vlad turned around.

Faced with his reflection Vlad couldn't help but laugh too, until his chest hurt and he was slumped against Robin, trying to swipe his face clean as best he could.

He hoped Robin had learned his lesson.

Fangs and capes were one thing.

Fake blood and facepaint, well, that was quite another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	25. Jonno, angst. Written for chromaticvision fest.

_September 2006_

**The first rule of slaying is: always be on your guard.**

At least, that's what my dad always says. My dad, you see, is a total loony. He actually believes in vampires. That was why we had to move to Stokely in the first place; he got it into his head that Mrs. Peterson, my old headmistress, was a paid up member of the undead club. He had her pressed up against the back wall of the cookery block with a six inch [stake](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5376537/75/Drabbles) before the caretaker could pull him off of her.

My mum didn't know about the slaying until after they were married, she told me. One night she came downstairs, all swollen ankles and baby bump, to find him sharpening a stake. And that's not even a euphemism.

She tried hard to understand, she really did. When dad stayed up all night staring at the night sky for the flap of bat wings she laughed it off. When he bought her strings of garlic for their wedding anniversary she grinned and beared it. The thing with Mrs. Peterson was the very last straw.

The police said he needed a straight jacket, not a night in the cells.

 

* * *

 

**The second rule of slaying is: know your enemy.**

This is kind of hard when your enemy only exists in your mind. My dad is convinced Vlad Count is a vampire, spends all his time up at the castle spying on Vlad's dad with his binoculars. I try to tell him, make him see sense. He'll only end up back at the police station with a restraining order and his name on some register.

He doesn't listen, he never does. It drives me mad because there's only  _one_  thing Vlad Count is.

A weirdo.

No, scrap that.

A  _total_  weirdo.

 

* * *

 

**The third rule of slaying is: never let the vampire escape.**

It's a good job slaying is all in his head because my dad wouldn't stand a chance. He can't boil an egg without setting something on fire. That's when I miss mum most, when it's beans on toast for the sixth day in a row and all my socks have turned grey in the wash.

Mum rings every other day after school. She asks about the caravan, and school and anything but dad.

I feel sorry for him and relieved for myself.

I wouldn't want to be a slayer.

 

* * *

 

_September 2010_

**The fourth rule of slaying is: once a slayer, always a slayer.**

I never really thought about this one until after. After my dad had been proven right. After Vlad Count had me pressed up against the back wall of his dank little crypt, fangs directed straight at my neck. Just  _after_.

We weren't supposed to remember, none of us. Not even Branagh, and beating heart aside, he's more of a vampire than Vlad could ever be.

My dad would have been proud of me, I know.

It doesn't help much, not really.

I'll never be proud of myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	26. Chloe / Olga.

"I bet you've never even kissed anyone."

Chloe scowled, " _Yes_ , I have."

"Who?" Olga smirked, raising an eyebrow in triumph when no answer was forthcoming. "Even Vlad," she grimaced in distaste at the thought of her cousin, "has managed to get that far."

"Well," Chloe said haughtily, making a show of turning a page of her textbook, "Some of us have more important things to worry about."

"Hmm," Olga glanced around the room in disdain, lingering on the poster of Darwinian evolution taking pride of place on Chloe's wall. "I can see that."

"And I suppose _you're_  an expert at it?" Chloe glared up at her, wondering why she wouldn't just go away and leave her alone. "Been taking tips from Ingrid?"

Olga grinned at that, sitting down next to her. "I think  _you're_  the one who needs to do that survey." [  
](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5376537/37/Drabbles)

"That's not what I meant," Chloe ground out, jaw set in anger.

"Still," Olga drawled, leaning back on her elbows, "if that's the way it is, we can fix you up right now." She pouted mockingly.

Before Chloe had chance to respond, Vlad was sticking his head round the door, "I'm going back up to the castle now."

"Whatever," Olga sneered at him and waited until they heard the front door shutting before getting up to leave. She paused, one hand on the door, smirking wider still, "Don't worry, you'll get your chance." She smiled sweetly, knowing exactly how irritating Chloe found it,

"I'll be back at Christmas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	27. Robin / Vlad. Written for slashthedrabble prompt #235 "Mood".

"There's no point trying to reason with you when you're like this," Robin scolded, not looking up from the screen, thumbs pummelling viciously at the plastic controller.

Vlad scowled in response, narrowing his eyes and making a show of huffing as he settled back against Robin's headboard – not that Robin could see him – and said, "When I'm like what?"

"Like this," Robin told him distractedly, swaying slightly as the car on screen swerved. He elaborated, "In a mood."

"I am  _not_  in a mood," Vlad muttered bitterly.

Robin threw the pad down in disgust, 'Game Over' flashing brightly across the screen, and scooted back to sit next to Vlad. "Happy now?" He raised an eyebrow at the sulky expression on Vlad's face. "Come on, cheer up, you have my undivided attention."

Vlad shrugged, but otherwise didn't answer. He just about restrained himself from folding his arms across his chest; he didn't want to give Robin any more ammunition.

"You sulk more than anyone I know," Robin went on solemnly. "Even Chloe. But," he squirmed around until he was lying on his stomach, chin resting in his hands, "You're lucky."

Vlad looked at him sharply and Robin grinned.

"It suits you!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	28. Robin / Vlad. Written for +slashthedrabble prompt #236 "Win".

"I'm bound to win, obviously," Robin told him, adding his name to the list pinned to the notice board. "The talent, the looks; I've got it all."

Vlad settled for raising an eyebrow and shifting his briefcase to the other hand. Robin watched the movement in distaste,

"Do you 'ave to carry that? You make me look like a right weirdo."

"I thought you did that all on your own."

Robin narrowed his eyes, "Ha ha. Very funny, Vlad. Not."

Vlad sniggered and Robin heaved a put upon sigh. "Seriously, though, you'll 'ave to make more of an effort when I'm rich and famous. You'll put off all my female fans." He grinned widely, "Of which there will be many." Robin checked his watch then, cursing under his breath, "I'm gonna be late; you coming?"

"I'll catch you up," Vlad said innocently, waiting until Robin had disappeared down the corridor and around the corner before scrambling in his case for a pen. Glancing quickly up and down he leaned in to the board, scrawling out Robin's name.

Sometimes, he thought as he screwed the cap back on with a flourish, you just have to do what you have to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	29. Robin / Vlad. Series of 10 drabbles written for the nospeakingrule comm over on Livejournal.

**#01. Confused**

"This," the Count had said back when they still lived in Transylvania, holding up the sobbing woman with a fist in her long blonde hair, "is dinner." Vlad had watched in horror as his Dad sank his fangs into the pale curve of her neck, lips and chin coming away streaked red with blood. The Count had grinned then, fangs glinting menacingly in the candlelight. Vlad had shrank back against the wall shaking his head, unable to form words, eyes fixed on the lifeless form at his father's feet. He knew it was what he should want. But he didn't.

* * *

**#02. Shocked**

"She's gone," Ingrid had said the day their mother ran off with a werewolf, eyes wide and over bright. Vlad had offered her a strained smile, not knowing what to say to make it better. Somehow knowing instinctively that there was  _nothing_  he could say to make it better. Ingrid had sunk down onto the cold stone step next to him, expression blank with shock, and he had touched a hand to her arm. She had looked at it like it was a bug and snatched her arm away, sneering into his face, "She's gone and it's all your fault."

* * *

**#03. Hurt**

The first time he argued with Robin – really argued with him – it hurt like nothing he had ever experienced. It wasn't the sharp pain of being punished, the blistering heat of fire or the crack of the cane against uncalloused skin; that he could handle. Instead it was an ache deep inside of him, tearing him apart with the need to go and beg Robin's forgiveness. To plead with him to still be his friend. He did neither, forcing himself to stay away until Robin finally came to him. In that moment he knew; he'd never be so stubborn again.

* * *

**#04. Angry**

He wanted to scream, to lash out and howl his frustration. He stood there trembling, fists clenched tightly at his sides and the words just wouldn't come. The 'how could you!?'s and the 'what were you thinking!?'s dying in his throat at the sight of the misery on Robin's face. The way he couldn't even bring himself to look him in the face. He was still angry, still wanted to know the how's and why's. Instead he pulled Robin into his arms and let him sob into the fabric of his shirt. Sometimes you just had to let things go.

* * *

**#05. Vengeful**

"How can you let him say that about us?" Robin hissed, glaring at Jonno's retreating back. "Why don't you want to do anything about it!?" Vlad shrugged with careful nonchalance, training his own gaze on the floor. How could he ever begin to explain to Vlad that the insults didn't bother him. That he wished harder than he ever had before that they could be true. That Robin might one day come to like him back. Robin shook his head in disgust and Vlad scurried to keep up with his long strides, wondering what else he was supposed to do.

* * *

**#06. Love-Struck**

The first time Vlad realised that the feelings weren't going to go away, were only getting stronger, he didn't say a word. They were sat in his bedroom, Robin for once silent as he concentrated on his work, expression so intense Vlad could do nothing but stare longingly in his direction. Imagining what would happen if he just reached out and  _touched_  Robin, his tousled hair and impossibly pale skin. Robin felt his focussed gaze and glanced up, smiling, before returning to his art. Vlad felt his heart constrict and in that instant he was certain; it was love.

* * *

**#07. Realisation.**

It couldn't have gone on forever, Vlad knew that. It was still a shock; a horrible sick-to-his-stomach shock when he saw the realisation on Robin's face. He'd been found out. Robin had gaped for a long moment, jaw working but no sound escaping. Vlad had looked down at his own hands to see them shaking in fear, terrified that Robin would want nothing more to with him. "Why?" Robin had asked finally, big dark eyes demanding an answer from him. Vlad had bit his lip and shook his head helplessly; he didn't know why he loved him. He just did.

* * *

**#08. Ecstatic**

At night, when he was alone in his bed, Vlad struggled to keep silent. Bit down at his lip hard enough to draw blood, cringing even as he was powerless to stop himself panting heavily into the darkness. Robin wasn't even talking to him and still he couldn't stop himself imagining that it was his hand wrapped around him, larger and hotter and  _surer_  than his own. When it was all over, the pleasure fading to guilt and shame and a hundred other unpleasant emotions he thought again of Robin and it was all he could do not to cry.

* * *

**#09. Depressed**

Those weeks were the worst of his entire unlife, the neverending ache in his chest and then the long miserable nights of sobbing into his pillow. Robin was careful to avoid eye contact with him in school, preferring to sit on his own than acknowledge his existence. Mrs. Branagh came to the castle especially to see him, asking if there was anything she could do to help mend the rift between them. He had shaken his head and fought back the sting of tears. It didn't make any difference what he felt; he couldn't force Robin to love him back.

* * *

**#10. Flustered**

Robin was blushing and awkward when he finally came to apologise, avoiding eye contact and wringing his pale hands together. Vlad couldn't speak past the lump in his throat, tentatively touching a hand to Robin's forearm in an attempt to tell him that it was all okay, that he would always be his friend. Robin met his gaze then; eyes heated, surging in closer and crushing their lips together. Vlad froze then kissed back desperately, pushing his hands into Robin's dark hair and plundering his mouth until they were forced to separate for air. For once they were  _both_  speechless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	30. Robin / Vlad, forgotten.

When Robin Branagh was thirteen years old, he was obsessed with vampires. He knows because his mother loves to tell anyone and everyone he brings home. She pulls out a photograph album and points to a picture of two boys in capes and plastic fangs. Laughs as she recalls how Robin and 'his little friend' Vlad spent hours pretending to be members of the undead.

His friends always smile politely and crack an inane joke about going easy on the garlic in future. Robin just stares at the photograph and wonders why he can't remember. Why 'his little friend' is a total blank in his memory. Why the only relevant thought that ever comes to mind when he tries – and he  _has_  tried – to remember is 'vampires don't exist'.

* * *

When Vladimir Dracula was thirteen years old, he was obsessed with breathers. He knows, as if he could ever forget, because Ingrid loves to tell anyone and everyone who steps foot in the castle. She pulls out his old school photographs and points out two teenage boys. Scoffs and sneers as she recounts how desperately 'little Vladdy' wanted to be normal like his repulsive breather friend, Robin Branagh.

Their guests always smile politely – not everyone has the luxury of being a blood relative of the Grand High Vampire – and crack a lame joke about how it's always the ones you least expect. Vlad just stares at the photograph and wonders why he cannot forget. Why his 'repulsive breather friend' consumes his thoughts like nothing else. Why he still has Robin's cape balled up in the bottom of his wardrobe. Why, even with everything he's seen and everything he's done, he still classes the moment he was forced to convince Robin that vampires didn't exist as the worst of his entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	31. Robin, gen.

"What is this?"

Vlad pointed to a photograph in the album he had been flipping through; they were helping Mrs. Branagh make a collage for the kitchen.

Robin peered over his shoulder and visibly paled,

"You 'ave to understand Vlad, I was young. I didn't know what I was doing."

"Aw Robin." Chloe leaned over both boys, "Don't you look cute? Dad!" She slid the photo from the album and handed it over to Mr. Branagh. "Look at this."

Mr. Branagh inspected it closely before speaking. "Those were the days, eh Robin? Before you became allergic to fresh air."

Robin scowled. Vlad hid his grin behind his hand.

"I think," Mrs. Branagh said, taking the picture from her husband's hands, "this will make a lovely centrepiece." She tacked it to the centre of the board and stood back to admire it, everyone crowding around to get a good long look at Robin, aged eight and grinning from ear to ear, posing in his cub scout uniform.

"Sometimes, Vlad," Robin hissed at him. "I really don't like you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	32. Vlad & Robin, misunderstanding.

"Ow! Be careful!" Robin whined, loud enough for Ian to hear it from the landing.

"You're the one who wanted me to do it," Vlad answered huffily. "If you'd just keep still it wouldn't hurt."

"Bruv," Ian whispered, grinning, "come and listen to this." He and Paul pressed up close to Robin's bedroom door.

"'Ow was I supposed to know you'd be so rough!?" Robin hissed and Paul sniggered, nudging Ian.

"I'm sorry," Vlad said, sounding contrite, "we can stop if you want."

Robin sniffed, "Don't be stupid! It took us ages to get this far."

"It'll be worth it," Vlad said solemnly, "I promise." Robin mumbled something indistinguishable and Vlad went on, obviously smiling, "You can do it to me later; be as rough as you want."

The twins shared a shocked look, Paul mouthing " _kinky_ ," to his brother before straightening up and banging on the door, "Mam says dinner's ready!"

"But we'll tell her you don't want any!" Ian added, grinning.

"'Ave fun!" Paul called sniggering before they both made their way downstairs, laughing.

* * *

"Why wouldn't I want any dinner?" Robin asked, frowning up at Vlad from his cross legged position on his bedroom carpet.

Vlad shrugged and shook his head, careful not to jar the comb he'd been trying to drag through Robin's gel encrusted hair and face his further wrath.

Robin just sighed and handed Vlad the hairspray he'd swiped from Chloe's room,

"I can't wait 'til they leave home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	33. Robin / Vlad.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this quote: "...we know they see, and hear, and speak... and they most certainly taste. Perhaps they also know discomfort, pain-" "And love?" Ben asked, looking straight ahead. "No," Jimmy answered. "I suspect that love is beyond them." - Salem's Lot; Stephen King.

_"Show us dealing, over."_

_"Do we 'ave to?" P.C. Brierley asks him anxiously, her face pale and taught in the moonlight. "That place gives me the creeps."_

_Silently, Robin agrees. It has been years since he had stepped foot in the place, longer still since he had done so willingly. Since he had finally been taught to fear the monster in his closet and the ghouls under his bed, the soulless eyes and corpse-cold fingers of the things that go bump in the night._

_Concentrating on the sound of his heavy booted feet against the gravel driveway, he says, "It'll just be kids, messing around."_

_No answer, only the dull crunch of two sets of hesitant feet. Step after reluctant step, like a condemned man making his final journey towards the scaffold._

* * *

Before -  _before_  - he had seen the things he had seen; when vampires still filled him with nothing but awe and Stokely was nothing but a former mining town where nothing ever happened, Robin had loved to read.

Movies, he had once explained to Vlad, were alright but the books were always better. The printed descriptions conjuring up scenes in his head more vivid - more real - than anything that could be recreated on the silver screen. Vlad had asked him if they frightened him, if he had nightmares afterwards.

Robin had just smiled back at him and shook his head.

There had been nothing to fear.

* * *

_The great oak door, rotted in places but still just as imposing as he remembers, falls open at his touch. P.C. Brierley mutters something next to him in the still night air and it takes all of his courage to step over the threshold. The plastic of his flashlight slides against his palm and, when P.C. Brierly flicks out her asp, he near jumps out of his skin in fright._

* * *

Robin doesn't read anymore. The images they conjure up in his mind are too vivid, too real.

Instead he sits and watches movies. Jewel red blood and cries of ecstasy at the touch of knife sharp fangs to dewy, willing flesh. They make him feel safe, secure. In the movies the monsters only want the beautiful people. And at daylight they melt away into the shadows.

Sometimes he can almost convince himself that there's nothing to fear.

* * *

_His ascent up the cold stone staircase is slow, painfully slow - not because of the caution instilled at police training college - but because he can scarcely draw breath. His heart beats a wild rhythm in his chest and the beam of his flashlight streaks arcs of white, non-sensical and random, picking out the cobwebs and insects and the dark wet moss clinging to the ancient walls._

_It isn't until he reaches the landing that he consciously makes the connection and clenches his hand tighter in hope of curbing its trembling._

* * *

The day of Jonno Van Helsing's funeral had been the worst of Robin's entire life. Worse than the day Gary Watts and Richard Price had pushed him down the stairs of the art block and broken his leg. Worse even than the day Vlad had told him, eyes ringed red and voice hoarse, that he was going away and never coming back.

That one didn't even compare.

Bitter cold, the roads had been icy and treacherous. The pallbearers had been grey-faced and sombre. Van Helsing had broken down at the graveside and sobbed. Robin's own mother had gripped tightly at his shoulder, murmuring over and over again who could have done such a terrible thing to such a nice boy as Jonno.

It had been the worst day of his life.

He had known exactly who had held Jonno down, kicking and thrashing and begging for his life. Who had torn out his jugular, his eyes still staring blankly at the crescent moon abover their heads, even as the blood around him congealed and cooled.

He had been there.

* * *

_It takes him three attempts before he finally gets his hand to co-operate and open the door to the room he had once known better than his own. Even as the hinges creak, as the first glimpse of dirt and neglect is revealed, he already knows what is waiting for him._

* * *

His first day in uniform had been the best day of Robin's life. Better than the day Gary Watts and Richard Price had been expelled from school for truanting double maths one too many times. Better even than the day Vlad had first told him, cheeks flushed and voice trembling, that he loved him.

That one didn't even compare.

Bright and sunny, the fresh spring air had made Stokely seem alive again. The verges had been awash with the yellow of daffodils and his mentor, P.C. Hughes, had told him that they were there to make a difference, that they were there to stop what had happened to Jonno happening to anyone else.

It had been the best day of his life.

He had truly believed it was that simple. That it was in the past, that he could make amends for standing by helpless and frozen as Jonno's life drained away.

He should have known better.

* * *

_"I've missed you," Vlad says, voice soft and fingers gentle as they trail across his cheek. Not that Robin can think of anything but the unnatural cold of the touch and the fact his flashlight has fallen to the floor. The only light the gleam of moonlight through the shuttered window. He clenches his eyes hut and wills for it all to go away._

* * *

Robin likes to think of Vlad as the boy he was. Clear blue eyes and friendly smiles that lit up his entire face. Likes to remember the companionable silences and the raucous laughter. These are the memories he keeps nestled between protective layers of tissue paper in his mind, like the important photographs in his parents' leather bound albums. To be taken out and admired then put away carefully. They are too delicate to withstand frequent handling so he does his best not to think of Vlad at all.

* * *

_"You're afraid of me, aren't you?" Vlad asks, voice betraying more emotion than Robin had believed him capable of, "You must know I'd never hurt you."_

_Robin thinks of Jonno, of growing up and leaving the straight forward certainty of youth for the constant fear of adulthood, and tells himself over and over again that it's not really happening._

* * *

Robin can't help but think of Vlad as the man - the monster - he is. Sharp, glistening teeth and cold black eyes. The bloodthirsty sneer that fills his nightmares and makes him glad of the privacy of his flat where he can thrash and scream and wake up in tears without arousing suspicion. He's tried to bury the memories, to torch them from his mind, but he can't. They consume him to the point where he believes those eyes are fixed on the back of his neck when he walks home alone at night. That the ghostly chill of fingers skimming his forehead as he lies in bed is something more than a bad dream. More than anything they convince him that it would have been better had he never met Vlad at all.

* * *

_"Rob? You in there?"_

_Artificial light streams through the crack in the door and Robin finally opens his eyes, his muscles relaxing in desperate relief at the welcome sound of P.C. Brierley's voice. For an instant his gaze locks with Vlad's and he's shocked to see clear blue where he expected nothing but black._

_"I love you," Vlad whispers, voice cracking on the final syllable, before disappearing and leaving him stood alone, staring at nothing.  
_

* * *

That night, for the first time in so long he can almost no longer remember, he isn't afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	34. Robin / Vlad, 'Not Enough'.

"Will your father try and marry you off too?" Robin asks suddenly.  _Weirdly_  Vlad thinks because they've spent the last half hour colouring in pictures of cloud formations for geography. He can't see how the two are linked.

"I mean," Robin blushes and fidgets with the pencil in his hand, "I'd do the same thing for you. If you wanted me to."

"What? Dress up in a cape?" Vlad shakes his head, "You do that anyway."

Robin looks at him for a moment longer, his gaze heavy and intense and full of  _something_  that Vlad can't interpret. Vlad is glad when Robin turns back to his chart, those unsettling dark eyes focussed on something other than him.

* * *

It is only by chance Vlad remembers that day, muted by the passage of time. In the event it was not his father, but the Council elders who chose for him. A beautiful vampiress with all the right connections. A bloodthirsty monster who despises him more thoroughly than all his other enemies combined.

The way it should be, he is told.

Throughout the ceremony he keeps his eyes on the flagstone floor and wishes there was some way out of it. Wishes he had lost his battle with his mirror image and succumbed so that he just wouldn't care. He thinks of his life – when it had truly been  _life_  – and of Robin and dark unsettling eyes boring into his own and, suddenly, he understands.

By then it is too late.

* * *

Sometimes Vlad sits at the graveside. Shrouded in the darkness, the still night air stinging his flesh, he  _remembers_. Dark eyes and corpse-white skin. He wonders if Robin would have looked any different, if it were possible for Robin to have looked any paler as they – the people who had forgotten  _him_  – trailed past to pay their last respects.

Sometimes he wishes he had understood sooner. Had been there to prevent it happening. Sometimes he weeps and howls and clutches at the cold ground like it can give him back as easily as it took him away.

Other times he recognises how futile it is. How futile it  _would_  have been. He can scarcely bear to have lost Robin alone to time. To think that Robin would have had to lose  _everyone_  is sobering. Enough to force him to leave before the sun's callous rays can touch him.

But not enough to keep him from coming back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	35. Vlad / Bertrand, control.

Failure, he had been told from the very beginning, was not an option.

Mistakes, of any kind, were only made by amateurs.

Being caught out was for slayers, and newlings, and half fangs. He had been trained to be inscrutable, to say the right thing at the right time and, no matter what, to fulfil the mission.

He stared at the underside of his coffin lid and examined the day's events, over and over. He ought to have seen it coming, ought not to have allowed himself to become so vulnerable.

Bertrand thought of Vlad's assurances that he had realised the nonsense of wanting to live alongside the breathers, and the disappointed look on his face when he had walked in on him trying to stake his sister. Of the evils of emotion and the unmerited relief he had felt upon Vlad regaining control over his own reflection.

Eventually he gave it up as a bad cause and left his coffin in favour of skulking about the corridors, and brooding in the training room. That was where Vlad found him hours later, motionless but for the blood he was swilling aimlessly around his half empty glass.

He kept his gaze averted, uncertain for the first time in centuries how he ought to play it. He shouldn't apologise for something which came as naturally as blood lust and murder and, yet, the urge clawed at him, unbearable as sunlight on his skin.

"My family are off limits," Vlad said as he moved to stand in front of him, forcing him to look up and meet his eye by presence alone. "You are either with me or against me; you have to make a decision."

Bertrand swallowed, seeing at once the boy he had been called to help, young and naïve and inexperienced, and the vampire Vlad had become. His response was as immediate as his way forward seemed obvious, and he sank to his knees, the way he had on that first meeting,

"I am here to obey,  _Master_."

Vlad looked shocked, and more than a little pleased. Bertrand bit back a smile. There would be no more mistakes.

He was no amateur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	36. Humour, 'festive spirit'.

"I got here first!" Paul gestured at the sprig of mistletoe hanging above them.

"No, bruv," Ian nudged Paul harshly, causing him to almost lose his footing. " _I_ was here first."

"Boys," Ingrid interrupted, a scheming smirk breaking across her face. "There are plenty of kisses to go round."

The twins stopped bickering instantly and grinned at each other.

"Now," Ingrid commanded. "Close your eyes." Both boys did so obediently. Ingrid gripped each of their wrists and tugged gently. "Now turn to face me." They did so eagerly, facing each other with Ingrid sandwiched in-between them. She stepped away and reveled in the moment before finishing,

"Kiss away."

Paul shuffled forward clumsily; Ian reached out a hand and blindly placed it on his brother's shoulder. Ingrid snorted into her hand in amusement, settling down into the Branagh's colourful sofa to watch the scene unfold.

Ian pulled Paul closer carefully, Paul's hand coming up to curl around the back of his brother's neck.

"I'm waiting," Ingrid said, voice strained with the effort not to laugh.

The twins needed no further prompting, mouths sliding together in a display that made up in enthusiasm what it lacked in finesse. Paul brought his other hand up to clutch at Ian's shoulder, angling his head to kiss deeper when two faces appeared in the open doorway.

"Oh my God," Robin said in shock, before turning to Vlad and grinning. "Quick, where's your phone?"

Vlad scowled at his sister, "Ingrid!"

"What?" Ingrid replied, looking smug. At the sound of her voice the twins pulled apart in horror.

"I just –" Paul stuttered.

Ian looked pale, "We just – "

"With  _you_." Paul finished, hand flying to his mouth.

"I'm going to be sick they said in unison," pushing Vlad and Robin out of the way and pounding up the stairs, towards the bathroom.

"You were right, Vlad." Ingrid said casually, swiping up a fashion magazine from the coffee table, uncaring of the murderous expression on her brother's face. "This visit  _has_ helped me get in the festive spirit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	37. Robin / Ingrid.

In the days after Will's death there was only one thought on her mind: vengeance. To wreck terror and devastation on all those who had wronged him.

When Vlad brought the power of the Council upon her, forcing her to  _watch_  as the Slayer walked free, it focused her wrath still further. If it weren't for  _Vlad_  it would never have happened. If he had worn the Crown sooner, if he hadn't invited that idiot Branagh into their lives, if he hadn't stood by and let Van Helsing become a threat. If, if,  _if_.

It quickly became apparent that Vlad was a target off-limits. With the weight, if not the faith, of the Council behind him his ugly visage was untouchable. Not without suffering a long and painful demise in the rays of the early morning sun.

And, so, she sat and she planned. She hadn't been named the most cunning vampire in her year for no reason. She schemed, and plotted and contrived; Vlad oblivious all the while. If she couldn't harm Vlad physically, she determined, she'd hit him where it really hurt.

It was so easy it was laughable. She could feel the storm in the air long before it broke. Waved Vlad off with his rugby kit and smiled sweetly – triumphantly – as the door slammed behind him. It took a single look to have Branagh tripping over his own feet to follow her up the narrow staircase.

If Vlad hadn't been so obvious about it, she thought as she let Branagh touch her, shuddering inwardly in revulsion. If Vlad didn't watch his every move with lovesick eyes, didn't sit back and pine and wish without ever doing anything about it. If, and this was the clincher, if Vlad were a true vampire he wouldn't even care, she justified as she manoeuvred Branagh back towards the bed, his gangly limbs shaking with excitement.

The timing was – as she had known it would be – perfect. Vlad stormed through his bedroom door, dripping wet and streaked in mud, just as Branagh's inexperience brought the scene to its climax.

She hears Vlad afterwards, crying and sobbing and ranting to that pathetic mongrel he refused to let go of. It doesn't make her feel regret or sorrow or even pity. To have loved and to have lost, she thinks, is something Vlad can finally understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	38. Vlad & Robin, gen.

"How many times do I have to say it!?" Vlad hissed as quietly as he could. "No!"

"Aw, Vlad, come on," Robin whined. "Just pass it to her."

" _No_." Vlad ran a hand through his hair in frustration and tried to concentrate on his history textbook. How was he ever supposed to get any work done with Robin distracting him every 20 seconds?

"I'd do it for you," Robin said sulkily.

'No you wouldn't', Vlad thought bitterly. He didn't answer though, glancing warily at the front desk instead. The last thing he needed was yet another detention for talking in class. And, the most annoying part was that it was always Robin's fault.

" _Vlad_ ," Robin tried again, "Just do it this once and I won't ask you again.  _Please_."

"Fine," Vlad ground out between gritted teeth, knowing from experience he wouldn't get any peace until he gave in. "Give it here."

Robin grinned happily and handed him the note he'd spent the better part of fifteen minutes pondering over. Vlad shook his head; Robin had no chance with the girl. Leaning over as far as he could, Vlad tried to tap her on the shoulder with it. He couldn't quite reach. Cursing silently he shifted his chair, sparing Mr. Griffiths another cautious glance, and tried again. She had just turned round to scowl at him when the voice he least wanted to hear sounded behind him,

"What's this, Count?" Vlad grimaced as Griffiths glared down at him. "Something tells me you're  _not_  attempting to discuss the collapse of the Weimar Republic. Am I wrong?"

Vlad sighed. "No, Sir."

"It must be very important, whatever it is, for you to be unable to keep it to yourself for another," Griffiths looked at the clock above the whiteboard, "14 minutes. Perhaps we'd all," Griffiths gestured widely around the classroom, at the dozens of faces watching the altercation eagerly, "benefit from hearing this urgent communication. What do you think?"

"But I didn't write it, Sir!" Vlad protested, glowering at Robin who was wearing an expression of perfect innocence.

"Don't make it worse for yourself, Count," Griffiths warned coldly, holding his hand out for the note. Vlad hesitated for a moment before passing it to him. If there was anything embarrassing in it then it would serve Robin right.

Griffiths scanned it quickly, lips quirking up in amusement. "And they say that romance is dead!" He cleared his throat, "Trish, I was really sorry to hear your boyfriend chucked you for that minger." Vlad looked at Robin in pity; he had no idea where Robin got his chat up lines from.

Griffiths coughed, as if trying not to laugh, and read on, "I'm better than him anyway, why don't we go out sometime?" Ripples of laughter went around the room and Vlad realised, belatedly, that there was nothing in the note to convince anyone that he hadn't written it. No wonder Robin had looked so smug.

Kelsey Peterson, sat next to Trish, twisted round in her seat to sneer at him and mouth ' _freak_ '. Vlad felt he couldn't really blame her.

"Seeing as you're so fond of writing notes, Count, copy this down," Griffiths said. "Detention, tomorrow, after school." Vlad scowled but got out his school planner and did as he was told. "I was going to set you an essay on why you shouldn't waste time in class but, having read this," Griffiths fixed him with a particularly disdainful look, "I think 'why modesty is a virtue' might be a more suitable topic."

Giggling broke out all around him and Vlad stamped on Robin's foot under the table as viciously as he dared,

"You owe me for this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	39. Vlad / Robin, future angst.

"Shhh," Vlad soothes, trailing cool fingertips across heated flesh.

The man beneath him bites his lip, dark hair clinging damply to his forehead as he struggles to abide by the rules; to keep quiet, to keep still.

Once assured neither is in imminent danger of being broken, Vlad lowers his lips to follow his fingers' path. Pushes his nose into the crook of his neck, grazes his elongated canines across his pulsing jugular.

Back when he had been young he had dreamt of this, over and over again. Of Robin inarticulate beneath him, desperate hands in his hair, guiding him where his voice could not.

Now, it's almost perfect. Vlad sucks softly against the flesh of his throat, excitement rising in waves even as he ensures the skin remains unbroken. He has plenty of others for that.

He takes his time, just as he always imagined he would. Even in his messy teenage fantasies he'd wanted to map Robin from head to toe, to kiss him everywhere until he was shaking and senseless with want.

The trembling of the limbs beneath him is gratifying beyond all reason. The harsh panting in his ear proof enough to make his own reactions clumsy and slow. But he's still fast enough to clap a hand over his mouth, to muffle the words in the palm of his hand.

Whatever he has to say, it's not what Robin would have said. And that, so he hisses in the stranger's ear, so like him in looks, is something he won't stand for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	40. Vlad / Paul.

"You must like  _someone_ , Vlad," Robin wheedled. "Everyone does."

"Well," Vlad shrugged uncomfortably. "I'm not like everyone else."

Robin frowned for a moment before changing tact. "I can tell you like someone 'cos you're blushing. If you didn't, you wouldn't be." Robin grinned, clearly certain that his logic had no fault.

"Even if I did like someone," Vlad conceded reluctantly, hastily adding, "and I'm not saying I do!" Robin nodded knowingly, waiting for Vlad to continue. "I wouldn't tell you who it was," Vlad finished lamely, carefully avoiding his best friend's eye.

"It's someone really embarrassing, isn't it?" Robin asked in unadulterated glee. "Old Jenkins? You just love seeing his bald patch in the scrum."

Vlad pulled a face, "No!"

"Hmm," Robin looked into the middle distance, pondering. "My Mam?"

" _No_." Vlad protested, belatedly realising that Robin would not give up until he uncovered the identity of his secret crush.

"Van Helsing?" Vlad scowled in response, not meriting it with an answer. Robin grinned widely, "Renfield?"

"Don't be so stupid, Robin!" Vlad sulked, wishing he had never started this.

"Alright, alright. Don't get your knickers in a twist." He was quiet for a moment, the pair of them staring at, but not watching, Robin's television. Eventually, Robin broke it. "You know you can tell me Vlad, don't you? I wouldn't laugh at you."

"What?" Vlad asked sarcastically. "Like you haven't been laughing at me for the last ten minutes." Robin had the good grace to look contrite as he said,

"Yeah, but I didn't mean it."

Vlad sighed, weighing up his options. "Fine, I'll tell you. And if you don't like it, then, that's your problem."

Robin nodded solemnly. Then, just as Vlad was about to open his mouth, he interrupted anxiously, "It's not Chloe though, is it?"

"No," Vlad frowned, shaking his head.

"Okay," Robin relaxed. "Carry on."

Vlad heaved a huge fortifying breath and allowed the word to pass his lips,

"Paul."

* * *

"Paul?" Robin frowned in confusion. "As in a boy, called Paul."

"Yes, a boy." Vlad snapped without meaning to, the nervous tension bound tightly around his body making him edgy.

Robin cocked his head to the side for a moment, as if considering. He shrugged, "Yeah, I can see that." He smirked lecherously, "All the more girls for me, hey?"

Vlad managed a strained smile.

"Do I know him though?" Robin asked, frowning again. "I can't think of any Pauls in our year."

"You know," Vlad said incredulously. "Paul.  _Your brother_."

If Robin could have gone any paler, Vlad was sure he'd have simply disappeared into thin air.

* * *

"Paul, though." Robin grimaced, looking out across the rugby pitch. "What is there to like about  _Paul_!?"

Vlad followed the taller boy's gaze and swallowed, feeling a few quarts of blood rush south at the sight of the taut muscles in Paul's thighs. He determined not to share such information with Robin, figuring it wouldn't be the best way to ensure he still had a friend at the end of the day.

Aloud he said, "I dunno. He's just so…" He struggled for a word, finally settling on, " _Normal_."

"Boring, you mean?" Robin asked bitterly. "You do understand," Robin went on, Vlad fully aware of the hint of spite in the other boy's voice, "that Paul thinks people like  _that_ ," he gave the word - Vlad felt - unnecessary emphasis, "are 'freaks of nature'." He hooked his fingers in the air.

Robin shrugged casually, "It's never going to go anywhere."

Vlad scowled. He wasn't stupid; he  _knew_  it wasn't going anywhere. It didn't mean he appreciated Robin pointing it out to him in the bluntest way possible. Angrily, Vlad retorted, "How do you know that? Nothing's set in stone, is it?"

"Except for you becoming the Chosen One." Robin responded instantly.

"Yeah, well," Vlad flustered, clenching his fist and fighting the urge to stomp his foot, "I need to go and hand my coursework in."

As he stormed across the field Robin called, only fanning his ire further, "I'm only saying this for your own good!"

* * *

Things were strained between him and Robin all the next day, to the extent that he almost couldn't look forward to his after-school rugby practice with the sixth formers.  _Almost_.

But, as soon as he reached the changing rooms and saw Paul squirming out of his uniform shirt, Robin was all but forgotten. Vlad watched as surreptitiously as he could, imagining what might happen if it played out like one of his dreams and the rest of the team just melted away.

"Vladdo," Paul called when he spotted him; Vlad bit down a pang of disappointment as the older boy pulled his rugby shirt down over his chest. "I hear you've had a falling out with  _freakboy_."

Vlad froze; surely Robin wouldn't have told Paul about their conversation. Robin wasn't that angry with him, was he? Paul went on without waiting for an answer, "Don't worry about it. Robin's a proper weirdo. He can't help being a pain in the backside."

Ian nodded at this statement, flinging a brotherly arm around Paul's shoulder. "Totally."

Paul shot him one last smile, a smile that had Vlad's heart hammering at around four times its usual speed, before leading his team outside.

* * *

"Vlad!" Ian yelled. "Block him!"

He moved to follow the instruction, gulping slightly at the sight of the boy barrelling towards him – he could swear he was as wide as he was tall. And he was pretty damn tall.

They collided and Vlad collapsed to the floor, pain slicing through him hotly. His ankle twisted underneath him and he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. He clenched his eyes shut; only forcing them open when warm fingers touched his shoulder.  _Paul_. Suddenly the pain didn't seem half as bad.

"Come on, Vladdo," Paul said jovially, helping him up carefully and supporting his weight as he limped back to the changing rooms. Once there, Paul lowered him to sit on a bench and inspected his injured ankle carefully, prodding it with surprisingly gentle fingers. Vlad supposed he had a lot of experience with this sort of thing. "I don't think you've done any lasting damage," He said thoughtfully.

"No?" Vlad asked dumbly, trying to find someway to prolong the conversation. Normally the only times he spoke to Paul was when Robin was around. Which seriously limited the scope of what might come out of his mouth. "Are you sure?"

"I can go and fetch the nurse for you?" Paul asked.

Vlad shook his head, searching for something witty to say. Something that wouldn't make him sound like a baby. "Nah, what will she do?" He smiled, "Kiss it better?" He cringed the second the words were spoken, feeling a hot blush working its way down his neck. Paul would think he was a total idiot.

"Haha," Paul laughed openly, allaying Vlad's immediate fears, "I can do that for you!" Vlad watched with wide eyes as Paul kissed the tips of two fingers on his right hand with a smacking noise, then touched them lightly to Vlad's ankle. "See," he grinned in amusement, "all better."

Vlad could do nothing but nod mutely.

"Stay here," Paul told him, getting up, oblivious to the turmoil in Vlad's chest, "and I'll get my Dad to give you a lift home."

With that he was gone and Vlad let his head slump back against the wall, a dopy smile curling across his face. Robin was  _so_  wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	41. Various, music drabble challenge.

**The Rules:**  
_1\. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like._  
2\. Turn your music player on and turn it on random/shuffle.  
3\. Write a drabblet/ficlet related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterwards!  
4\. Do ten of these, then post them.

* * *

**Today - Smashing Pumpkins**

He'd wanted it for so long; Vlad could hardly remember what it had felt like before. Before he had met Robin. Before it felt like the desperate ache in his chest would tear him apart.

He'd wanted it so badly, it burned like an obsession. Filling his every waking thought. Haunting his dreams. Wrapping itself around him tighter and tighter until he couldn't control himself.

He couldn't have the only one to have felt it. He tells himself this over and over. Robin hadn't pushed him away, had never said no.

It hadn't been his fault.

* * *

**Watchdogs - UB40**

Jonno will never appreciate it, he knows. Jonno will never even know. It's a scecret. His secret.

Sometimes, he thinks about what would happen if Jonno were to find out. To see him watching in the darkness.

He likes to think that instead of flying at him with a stake, Jonno would understand. He's not there for the hunt. Jonno might never be able to see him as more than a monster, but he'll keep up the silent watch. Protecting, safe-guarding, always alert and aware.

He knows and, really, that's all that's important.

* * *

**That'll Be The Day - Buddy Holly and The Crickets**

"Oh God," Robin hid his face in horror, "this is so embarrassing."

"I think it's sweet," Chloe said, bopping her head in time to the music.

Ingrid sneered, "I think I'm going to be sick."

Vlad smiled as Mrs. Branagh blushed, and held a hand to her chest. He thought it was sweet too.

"Elizabeth," Mr. Branagh called from the stage, dressed in scout issue shorts and a drape jacket, "This is for you."

* * *

**Don't Stay – Linkin' Park**

"You can't stay here," Vlad hissed, fangs glinting in the candlelight.

Robin didn't move, speaking quietly, "I'm not afraid of you."

Vlad snarled, "You  _should_  be." Why couldn't Robin see what he was? Why couldn't he understand the danger he was in? "I don't need you," he lashed out, "I never needed you."

"I know," Robin met his gaze, placing a hand on his arm as if it had every right in the world to be there, "but I need you."

* * *

**Smuggler – The McCalmans**

The words seemed oddly familiar, although he couldn't at first decipher why. Perhaps it was something Vlad had played on his music receiver? But no, flashes of memory came to him. Candlelight, and dancing, and the heady smell of human blood.

Saliva flooded his mouth at the remembered taste, the way Magda had drunk deeply, sharing it with him. Magda… He glanced up sharply at Ingrid's bowed head, the profile of her face more similar to that of her mother with every passing day. He stared.

"What?" she snapped finally. "Take a picture, it'll last longer."

If that night Renfield found the dust sheet had been removed from Magda's portrait, he wisely didn't pass comment on it.

* * *

**Ganja Breed – Sean Paul ft Chico**

"It won't do you any harm," Robin assured, inhaling deeply.

Vlad watched as he exhaled, as the smoke curled around his head and a dopy grin spread across his face. "I don't think I should."

"You're the Prince of Darkness," Robin giggled, passing him the spliff. "You have to try it."

He took it, staring at it for a long moment before trying to copy what Robin had just done. The smoke choked him, the acrid taste in his mouth making him cough and gasp for air.

Robin took it back, wrapping a heavy arm around his shoulders and giggling again, "You'll get used to it."

"I don't want to," Vlad murmered. Robin placed a clumsy kiss to his cheek and leaned closer, resting his weight against him. Vlad smiled in spite of himself.

* * *

**One to Ten – Se7en**

"What's this?" Robin grimaced, inclining his head at the stereo.

Vlad smirked, "Music."

"Not funny, Vlad." Robin shook his head, pointing at Vlad with his pencil. "It's rubbish whatever it is."

"It's not rubbish," Vlad protested. He was pretty sure he never wanted Robin to find out but, in his head, this was _their_  song. "If you knew what they were saying, you'd understand." He added quietly.

It was a fortnight later when Robin turned up at his doorstep with a bunch of flowers wrapped in black ribbon.

"That song?" He blushed, handing Vlad the flowers. "I looked it up."

* * *

**Clown – Korn**

Boys don't cry.

That's what all the other boys had always said, crowding around him, twisting his arm behind his back until he was sure it would snap. Pain searing across his senses until he'd give in – and he always gave in – tears streaking his face while they watched on and laughed.

Now that they don't care he can control it. Would sooner die than someone see him cry. Boys don't, he thinks the first time Vlad sobs into his shirt that he hates fate. But, then, Vlad's not a boy.

He's a vampire.

* * *

**Android – Green Day**

Robin thinks it must be terrible to grow old. To become bland and normal and  _boring_. He knows that before – before there was Chloe and him and the twins – his Dad would never have been caught dead listening to Cliff Richard. Knows from the stories his Nan tells him, and the faded photographs in his parents' photograph album.

It happened to him all the same.

That's why he thinks it would be  _so_  cool to be a vampire. If you never got old, you could never become boring.

* * *

**Wishing (if I had a photograph of you) – A Flock of** **Seagulls**

Sometimes Will wishes there were no such things as vampires. It's cool, of course. And the castle is infinitely better than the dismal bedsit he had been sharing with his old man and his dead-end brothers.

But, still, sometimes when Ingrid smiles. Really smiles, something so rare and so fleeting he can hardly remember it afterwards, he wishes they were human. If they were human he could take a photograph; keep the moment forever.

Wishes, he had learnt early on in life, never come true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	42. Robin / Vlad, challenge from werepuppy.

Bloodthirsty, heartless, devoid of any and all compassionate emotion. That was how he was supposed to be, he knew. At Council he did his best, snarling and flashing his fangs at the opposition. Sneering down his nose, and pressing threatening fingers into the soft flesh of milk white throats when he didn't get his own way.

It was what was expected of him, he understood.

As time went on it became almost second nature. As if the Vlad he had once been was gone, lost forever behind a carefully constructed mask. He had no-one to be his true self with, no-one who would want to spend time with his true self.

It was his fate, he accepted.

Perhaps he would have forgotten that he had ever been anything else, anything less than a 'real' vampire. Perhaps. He never had to find out, fingers clenching around the arms of his throne in shock as a familiar figure was thrown down at his feet. Eyes wide with disbelief as Robin –  _Robin_  – scowled up at him.

It was love, he'd always been certain.

He'd always wanted Robin. Had pined, and wished and dreamed endlessly about Robin wanting him in return. Later, he had chosen men who looked like him; dark eyes, dark hair, pale skin. None of them had ever been good enough. Robin had stared him down, the opposition asking why there was a breather still living in the chamber. Why he had not tore out Robin's jugular for daring to look him in the eye.

It was better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.

That's how the saying went. It was a lie, Vlad knew. Without Robin he hadn't the courage to be who he was, to be anything other than a washed out stereotype. He made two pledges that day. The first: to lead the vampire race into a new dawn, a new age of peace and compromise. The second: to never let Robin slip through his fingers for a second time.

He kept both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	43. Robin / Vlad, inspired by Craig Roberts' experimentation with valleys boy highlights.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original author's notes from 2009 or so: _'Mein Baby War Beim Frisör (und jetzt mag ich sie nicht mehr...)' Inspired by Craig Roberts' chav-tastic highlights [see[HERE](http://i.imgur.com/pui45fW.png)] when he was in "Full Time" last year with the Y Touring company. Bless. Title is a song by Die Ärzte - My Baby Went to the Hairdressers (and now I don't fancy her anymore...)_

"Branagh," Van Helsing drawled. "Are you incapable of telling the difference between a classroom and the playground?"

"No, Sir," Robin muttered, gaze down on his desk.

"Then would you care to enlighten me as to why you're wearing a hat?"

Robin squirmed in his seat and Vlad watched him curiously. It wasn't like Robin not to have some witty comeback. Since Van Helsing had been made their form teacher it was a rare lunchtime in which Robin wasn't serving detention with him.

"Take it off, Branagh." Van Helsing glared at him, " _Now_."

Reluctantly Robin lifted a hand to his head, hesitating for a moment before pulling the beanie hat away. Vlad bit at his lip, feeling the muscles in his cheek twitch with the effort of not laughing.

Nobody else seemed inclined to try, laughter rippling across the room.

"Nice hair, Branagh!" Davis called, snickering.

"Suits you!" Watson added, grinning all across his face in amusement.

"You look like a right –"

"Yes, Price,  _thank you_ ," Van Helsing cut him off. "Get some work out." There was murmuring as the class obeyed. "Silently!"

Vlad got his maths book out, unable to take his eyes off Robin. Robin glowered at him,

"Don't. Say. One. Word."

* * *

"Accident, was it?" Jonno Van Helsing asked as they got changed for games. Vlad was glad it was their last lesson and Robin's mood would have a chance to improve away from their classmates.

"No," Robin hissed.

"You paid for  _that_?" Jonno's tone was incredulous and Vlad felt he should probably intervene before the wind changed and Robin was stuck scowling viciously forever. He much preferred it when Robin smiled.

"It's not that bad."

"What are you on about, Count?" Price said, shaking his head. "It's awful."

"Terrible," Watson agreed.

"I'd be too ashamed to go outside if it were me," Davis added.

"Right," Robin threw his football boots down in a strop, "that's it! I don't 'ave to put up with this!"

Before he could persuade him otherwise Robin was storming from the changing rooms, slamming the door loudly behind him.

Significant looks passed between the boys as Jenkins stuck his head out of his office door to see what the commotion was about.

"It was Branagh, Sir," Price called by way of explanation.

"Maybe I should go and speak to him?" Vlad suggested. "He might need to see the nurse or something." Robin wouldn't get into trouble if Jenkins thought he was ill. Not as much trouble, anyway.

"There's only one thing Branagh needs," Jenkins said, looking at Robin's abandoned games kit in disdain, "and that's a good kick up the arse!"

* * *

Vlad loitered outside the changing rooms, grimacing as he heard Jenkins' yells through the walls. Robin would be an even worse mood when he got out; he never reacted well to being told off. Even if, as was more often the case than not, he deserved it.

After a few more minutes Robin slammed his way outside, muttering dark threats under his breath. He didn't notice Vlad until he put a hand on his arm and called his name, scurrying along beside the taller boy to keep up with his vicious strides.

"What do you want, Vlad?" Robin turned on him, yelling. "Just leave me alone!"

"Fine," Vlad spat back, hiding his hurt behind a display of temper. "I was only trying to be nice because I'm supposed to be your  _best friend_  but, if you don't want to speak to me, then, I'll just get out of your way."

He made to storm off in the direction of home, wishing they didn't have to walk the same way because it meant he was going to look like an idiot when he couldn't walk fast enough to avoid Robin. He'd only managed a few steps before there was a hand on his shoulder, stilling him.

"I'm sorry," Robin sighed. "I'm just fed up with everyone 'aving a go and laughing at me."

"Yeah?" Vlad said sniffily. "Well, don't take it out on me." They fell into step beside each other, the streets void of the usual rush of students by merit of how long Jenkins had kept Robin behind.

"I told my Mam I didn't want it done," Robin said after a few minutes of silence. "I knew everyone would take the mick."

Vlad glanced up at him, considering. It really wasn't  _that_  bad. "You could just dye it back?" He suggested.

Robin grimaced, "Mam'll go spare if I do that. She'll be all upset and everything." He rolled his eyes, "She thinks it'll get all the girls after me." He shook his head, whining, "As if I needed any help."

"I could tell her you'll have to dye it back then," Vlad smirked, judging that Robin's mood had improved enough that he wasn't going to give him the cold shoulder all night for the comment. "I don't want loads of girls flinging themselves at you."

"I can't help it if I'm fit," Robin said, although he was smiling back at him, eyes soft. Quieter, he added, "Is it really that bad?" Embarrassed, he finished, "I don't want you to go off me or anything."

"Robin," Vlad smiled, stopping in the middle of the path, "I could never go off you."

"Yeah?" Robin breathed, glancing around them – checking for prying eyes – before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "Well, that's alright then."

"And," Vlad grinned widely, starting to walk again, "if all else fails; you could always wear your hat."

If Robin clipped him across the back of the head at that, well, Vlad reasoned, he'd probably earned it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	44. Various, writing meme.

_**Another writing meme - cos I love them so!** _

_**1\. Write down the names of 10 characters.  
2\. Write a drabble-esque fic for every prompt, using the characters determined by the numbers. Do NOT read the prompts before you do step 1.** _

**CHARACTERS (in no particular order):**  
#01. Vladimir Dracula  
#02. Robin Branagh  
#03. The Count  
#04. Ingrid Dracula  
#05. Paul Branagh  
#06. Jonno Van Helsing  
#07. Eric Van Helsing  
#08. Chloe Branagh  
#09. Ian Branagh  
#10. Mr. Branagh

* * *

**PROMPTS:**

**\+ First Time, 4 and 6 (Ingrid / Jonno)**

Jonno can hardly believe it is happening.  _Ingrid Count_  pressed up against him, whispering things in his ear that he's never dared dream of. He's never been so glad of PTA meetings in his entire life.

"You'll enjoy this," Ingrid hisses hotly, lips brushing the skin of his neck.

 _'I know'_  is the last coherent thought he ever has.

* * *

**\+ Angst, 7 (Eric Van Helsing)**

'Slaying is your destiny,' was what he was always told. 'It's in your blood.'

When he was young he fought against it; didn't want to believe, didn't want to accept. Now he sees Jonno do the same and it breaks his heart. There is no other option, if there were he would take it. One day, he hopes, Jonno will understand.

* * *

**\+ AU, 1 and 8 (Vlad / Chloe)**

"There are no such thing as  _vampires_ ," Robin says, shaking his head. "You really need to get a life, Chloe. Vlad'll go right off you." He takes in her pale face and purple lipstick with a grimace, tugging at his football socks as the twins get their coats. She was so  _weird_.

"Just think," he hears Chloe say to Vlad on the way out, their pale fingers entwined, "a twist of fate and it could have been  _him_  sat here."

He pulls a face and looks back at them, meeting Vlad's eye. The other boy's gaze is heated and sad and something else all at the same time. Correction, he thinks.

They were both weird.

* * *

**\+ Threesome, 3, 6 and 9 (Count / Jonno / Ian)**

"I don't think we should be down here. Ingrid won't like it."

He hears one of the infernal Branagh spawn chattering and grimaces. His beautiful castle overrun with peasant scum.

"I'm sure she said to, er, meet her here."

Van Helsing. He sniffs the air, the scent of slayer unmistakable. With a flourish he lifts the lid of his coffin, enjoying the way their eyes widened and the thick smell of fear.

"We were just, er, looking for Ingrid, Mr. Count," the elder stutters, rooted to the spot. Van Helsing just shrinks back against him.

"She isn't here," he drawls, flitting to press himself behind the Branagh boy, reaching out to trail cold fingers down Van Helsing's throat. "But, trust me, it won't be a wasted trip."

Van Helsing swallowed harshly, the quickening of his blood like music to his ears. What they couldn't remember wouldn't hurt them.

* * *

**\+ Hurt/Comfort, 5 and 10 (Paul / Mr. B - gen because incest is ick!)**

"She says I'm stupid." Paul says morosely. "A repulsive blot on the face of the earth." He sighs deeply, chin resting on his hands. It's like Robin has doubled Mr. Branagh thinks ruefully.

"An' I really love her," Paul goes on. "I wrote a song for an' everything."

Mr. Branagh puts a hand on Paul's shoulder, not quite knowing what to say. This camping trip was supposed to take his mind off it, but it didn't seem to be working. "Why don't you go and help Francis with the dinner?" He suggests finally.

Paul pulls a face, ready to protest when Francis stuck her head through the flap of her tent, long hair falling over her ample chest. "Did I hear the sound of someone volunteering?"

"Yeah," Paul beams, "thanks Dad."

Mr. Branagh watches him go with a smile, gaze finally falling upon Robin's sulking form. If only all his problems could be solved so easily.

* * *

**\+ Crack fic, 1 (Vlad)**

"Aw, Vlad it's going to be  _awesome_." Robin was grinning at him, shifting from foot to foot in impatient excitement. In front of them Chloe was explaining to Jonno the science of how the ride stayed in the air without its riders incurring certain death.

To his left a boy who looked about his own age took a hammer to a loose peg, clapping it once, twice before announcing it 'was as good as it was going to get'. Vlad swallowed thickly. He was too young to die. In more ways than one.

Pulsing dance music blared over the loudspeakers as the line shuffled forward, his stomach lurching at the realisation this was  _it_. Robin dragged him by the elbow and dumped him unceremoniously into the seat. His fingers went white around the bar as it jolted into action, eyes clenched shut in terror.

"I don't like it," he protested desperately, "I want to get off."

"Don't be a girl," Robin admonished before words were lost to the biting wind.

**xXx**

"Did it work?" Chloe pitched quietly for Robin's ears alone when they were back on solid ground, Vlad still clutching at Robin like a lifeline, arms wrapped around him. Robin grinned, giving his sister a thumbs up with the hand that wasn't petting Vlad's hair,

"Like a treat."

* * *

**\+ Horror, 10 (Mr. Branagh)**

The dark was unnerving, the atmosphere thick and cloying. It clung to him, swirling around him thicker and thicker, the smell of damp and decay. Death, he thought wildly. It smelt like death.

"Couldn't keep away, could you  _peasant_?" A horribly familiar voice drawls behind him, the press of ice cold fingers to the back of his neck sending thrills of terror down his spine.

"Y-You," he stutters, "Can't do this."

There is a flash of light, an instant of fangs and black soulless eyes.

"I think you'll find," the voice hisses in his ear , "I can."

* * *

**\+ Baby fic, 5 and 9 (Paul and Ian - how lucky was that!?)**

"It wasn't me," might as well have been the first words the twins learnt, or so Mrs. Branagh sometimes thought. The mucky fingerprints on the freshly painted walls. The broken panes of glass in the door, and the punctured rugby ball. The three inches of water flooding the kitchen floor and the box of washing powder tipped down the toilet.

No matter what – no matter how many times they were caught red-handed - it was never their fault.

But, when they clambered on to the sofa, one either side, all sticky smiles and stickier hugs, she couldn't help but forgive them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	45. Robin / Vlad, written for the 10_cliche_fics prompt: 'We're pretending, right?'

"One week," Robin murmured, not looking at him.

"One week," Vlad repeated despondently.

Robin glared at him then, tone cold as he said, "After what you've done to me, it's the least you can do."

Vlad looked away. Robin had a point.

* * *

"I've put you two in here," Robin's aunt was babbling, pushing the door open. Vlad noted the double bed and groaned inwardly. He'd known it would be a week of torture, but this was just on a whole new level of pain.

Robin sneered at him as he dumped his bag unceremoniously onto the bed, and then plastered a false smile across his face. "That's really great, Auntie Pat. I didn't know how I was going to survive a week without Vlad at my side."

They glowered at each other.

"Same here," he said, antagonising Robin further. "Because we spend all our time together."

"Except for when Vlad is too busy  _entertaining_ his fanclub," Robin said with false cheer, giving him a pointed look.

Auntie Pat, as oblivious to subtext as he was learning the entirety of Mrs. Branagh's side of the family were, just pinched Robin's cheek as if he were still knee high. "Aw, don't you two make a cute couple. Dinner in half hour."

Left alone they just scowled at each other and set about unpacking their things on opposite sides of the room. It was going to be a long week.

* * *

"So, Vlad," Cariad, Robin's cousin, started. "How do you put up with Robin stropping all the time?"

"Yeah," Paul said around his eggs and bacon, "I'd 'ave had to kill him by now. He's so annoying."

Vlad looked over at Robin – who had spent the entire night shifting further and further away like he had some sort of contagious skin disease until he actually fell out of bed – and gave his most charming smile.

"I love Robin's mercurial moods," he said sarcastically, determined that Robin was going to get as good as he gave. He was only there out of the kindness of his heart. Robin had dumped  _him_ ; he had no obligation to play happy families for the sake of Robin's pride. He went on, "I think they're a sign of his maturity."

Robin narrowed his eyes. "Maturity!? Vlad knows  _all_ about that." He met the eye of Cariad's brother, Owain, "He still sleeps with a cuddly toy, don't you Vlad?" He gave him a smile that flashed teeth; it reminded him disconcertingly of Ingrid, "It's so cute."

"It's an improvement on some of the bed partners I've had," he smirked back, enjoying the way Robin gritted his teeth, seething with anger.

The rest of the table shared significant looks and concentrated on their breakfast.

* * *

"Would you like a drink, Vlad?" Auntie Pat offered, already filling his glass.

Robin, who might as well have been on the next continent, not the next sofa cushion, for all the company he was being, snorted, "Don't drink too much,  _darling_. We all know you can't take it."

"At least I don't wake up face first in my own sick when I've been drinking," Vlad hissed, face twisting as he leaned closer.

"No, your mouth is always otherwise occupied."

Vlad grimaced, guilt warring with the desire to punch something. "If you were so concerned you wouldn't have let me drink that much in the first place. As you say,  _sweetheart_ , we all know I can't take it."

"Excuse me!" Robin said in mock apology. "How could I 'ave forgotten that  _nothing_  is  _ever_  your fault!?"

"Problems?" Mr. Branagh cut in then, making Vlad realise they were probably creating a massive scene.

"No," Robin spat, getting up abruptly. "I just want an early night." He paused to hiss at Vlad, "So much as think about following me and you'll regret it."

Vlad grimaced to the rest of the room and drained the glass. Being an evil vampire who refused to accompany ex-boyfriends on family visits was looking a more attractive proposition by the minute.

* * *

"Boys," Mrs. Branagh smiled – a smile that looked a little strained even to Vlad's eye - at them four days later, putting an early end to their current round of scowling darkly at each other, "Why don't you go out for a nice walk?"

Vlad peered out of the window; the sky was a dark grey, it looked cold, wet and miserable.

"The fresh air might do you some good," Auntie Pat added. There were numerous murmurs of agreement. Vlad got the impression that his and Robin's stand-off was dragging the whole household down.

Robin got to his feet, "I hear it's clearing up this afternoon," he gestured at the window and smiled nastily at Vlad, "We should definitely go." Vlad just shook his head and went and fetched his coat. So Robin wanted to see him turned to dust. Well, right now, he thought viciously, he wouldn't be averse to seeing the tables turned.

Outside in the cold winter air Robin shoved his hands in his pockets, taking extra long strides so he had to walk twice as fast to keep up with him. They were in the middle of the housing estate, the benches outside the boarded up shops deserted thanks to the heavy rain, when his temper finally snapped.

Grabbing hold of the sleeve of Robin's coat, he spun the taller boy round to face him. " _What_  is your problem!?  _You_  asked me to do this. Because  _you_ couldn't find another boyfriend!"

"My problem," Robin pointed at himself and laughed bitterly. "I'll tell you what my problem is, Vlad." He pushed up close into Vlad's personal space, rain dripping from the edge of his hood as he jabbed a finger into Vlad's chest. "Finding my  _so called_  boyfriend necking some stupid blonde slapper, that's my problem. Ringing any bells?"

Vlad shoved Robin by the shoulders, shaking his head, sending tendrils of hair flying, "How many times do I have to tell you, I wasn't  _necking_  her! I was biting her."

"That's even worse!" Robin yelled at him, coat sopping wet as he flung an arm out in frustration. "You won't bite me but, some stranger you've only just met, well, that's fine."

"It wasn't like that, and you know it," Vlad ground out. "How many times can I apologise to you? Do you want me to get down on my knees and beg, is that it?"

"Well, it'd be a first," Robin sneered.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know," Robin said, raising an eyebrow and looking him up and down. "Let's just say, there's not much I'm missing about you."

"Yeah?" Vlad spat back at him, "Same here. You know what?" He asked, anger overriding his usual reason, "I'm glad you're such a selfish, immature  _freak_." Robin looked up at him, confusion breaking across his face. Vlad pressed on, "Because if you had listened to one word I said and forgiven me I'd have been stuck with you  _forever_."

Robin stared at him, wide-eyed for a moment, before his expression twisted with all the horrible emotions he could never have imagined Robin ever wanting to direct at him, "I wish you were human, Vlad." He paused, sneering, "That way I could tell you to drop dead."

* * *

It was late by the time Vlad let himself back into the house. Robin had given his parting shot and stormed off. Vlad wasn't proud of the subsequent lightening storm he'd started, slamming a fist into the bench hard enough to dent metal (and cause serious pain to the knuckles of his right hand.)

Nor was he proud of the way he'd sobbed into his hands on some park bench like a twelve year old girl. As much as Robin infuriated him, made him want to wrap his hands round his perfect pale throat and squeeze until he just  _shut up_ , he still loved him. Desperately.

He closed the bedroom door quietly behind him, moving with all his unnatural grace in the darkness and switching the bedside light on. The soft light diffusing over the exposed skin of Robin's shoulders, the blankets slipping around him, made his throat ache. Robin looked so beautiful.

Peeling off his wet coat and sweater, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, fingers hovering over warm skin. He wanted to touch, to trail kisses along Robin's collarbone and leave marks of possession up the length of his throat.

Reluctantly he withdrew his hand, he was so cold he would probably only wake Robin up – he couldn't imagine Robin being overjoyed to find him pawing at him. So, instead, he worked the buttons of his shirt free with numb fingers, pushing wet denim down his legs. Then he clambered into bed, shifting as close to Robin as he dared, soaking up the other boy's body heat.

He was watching Robin so intently he jumped when Robin opened his eyes, soft and unfocussed with sleep. "Vlad?" He croaked.

"Yeah?"

Robin reached out a hand, the scorching heat as it dropped to his arm enough to make him gasp. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier, I didn't mean it." Vlad noticed for the first time the redness around Robin's eyes. "I don't wish you were dead." He offered him a nervous half smile, "deader."

"I'm sorry too," he whispered back, finally giving in and reaching out to push Robin's fringe away from his forehead. "For everything."

Robin leaned into his touch, although his eyes were solemn, "Did you like her better than me? Is that why you wanted to feed from her?"

"No!" Vlad protested. He looked away, feeling ill at the memory, "I was just – I was so desperate – I didn't know where you were." It sounded lame but it was true. All his fragmentary memories were of feeling frantic and terrified, searching for Robin and coming up empty handed. The girl smiling at him, the taste of blood against his tongue and then – then - Robin pulling them apart and threatening to break his spine in six places for daring to humiliate him.

"You can feed from me, I don't mind," Robin's eyes were huge in the lamplight and Vlad swallowed thickly. The thought of tasting Robin, of Robin writhing against him in pleasure as he sunk his fangs into Robin's willing flesh causing an instant reaction.

"I could hurt you," Vlad managed to force out, deliberately not looking at the ever increasing amount of Robin's chest on display as he shifted about.

"It couldn't hurt any worse than the last few weeks have," Robin said huffily. "Sorry," he winced, "I shouldn't have said that."

Vlad shook his head, "It's alright." He shifted, supporting his weight on his hands with Robin beneath him, "I'm going to make it up to you."

Robin searched his face, and then grinned, "Promise?"

Vlad dropped a soft kiss to his lips, smiling, " _Promise_."

* * *

"Robin? Vlad?" Mr. Branagh stuck his head round the door warily the following morning, expecting icy tension and fearing bloodshed, "you ready to go?"

What he did find was even more of a shock. Robin, bags packed at his feet and livid love bites trailed from collarbone to chin, nodded, gaze fixed firmly on Vlad all the while. Vlad, for his part, was holding Robin's hand, staring dreamily into his eyes.

"Well, bring your stuff downstairs for nine, alright?"

Vlad nodded this time, tearing his gaze away from Robin for all of about four seconds.

"Right." Mr. Branagh said, peering closer to check the two of them hadn't been swapped for clones overnight, "right." He shut the door and shook his head.

Young Love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	46. Robin / Vlad, written for fiction_drabble prompt #38 "freedom"

Beauty, so Mrs. Branagh always says, is in the eye of the beholder. Vlad thinks that this must be true because she married Mr. Branagh, although he doesn't think it's a bad thing because, if she hadn't, Robin would never have been born.

With Robin, he is the beholder and, in his eyes, Robin is very beautiful.

He once told Robin this.

Robin thought he was joking and laughed until tears were running down his face, forcing Vlad to rethink his position on the right to freedom of speech.

He still thinks it.

But  _now_  he keeps it to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	47. Robin / Vlad, being their own worst enemies.

Robin hates it when Vlad brings girls back. Hates having to listen to their breathy moans and high pitched keening through the thin partition wall. Hates the way he can never stop himself imagining the expression on Vlad's face as they ride him, the headboard banging rhythmically in time with the movement of his own hand. In the mornings, as whats-her-name slathers concealer across the frail skin of her neck, Vlad always meets his gaze apologetically and he turns away. It is better all round if he just pretends it never happened.

**xXx**

He hates it more when Vlad brings guys back. Hates having to listen to their guttural groans and the slap of skin on skin through the too thin partition wall. Hates the way he can never stop the marrow deep jealousy that courses through him, every sound twisting the knife deeper even as it drives him closer to the edge. In the mornings they are always gone, colour in Vlad's cheeks testament to their parting gift. It would be better all round if he could just pretend it never happened.

**xXx**

He hates it most when Vlad comes to him, eyes dark and wanting in the dim light of his bedroom. Hates having Vlad use the same mouth on him he's had on countless other people. Hates the way he's never strong enough to turn Vlad away, to tell him that every time they do this his heart breaks a little more. In the mornings Vlad is always long gone, the skin of his neck still intact, proof he'll never be good enough. As much as he tries he can't just pretend it never happened. Can never convince himself he doesn't want it to happen again.

He'll take whatever Vlad is willing to give.

* * *

Vlad hates himself when he brings girls back. Hates himself for revelling in their moans of appreciation when he knows Robin can hear every sound they make. Hates himself for closing his eyes and imagining big dark eyes in place of blue or green, sharp angles in place of curves; for wanting someone they can never be and using them anyway. In the mornings his gaze lingers on the marks he's left on their delicate necks, meets Robin's disapproving with eyes full of all the words he can never say. Robin always turns away, message clear: he doesn't want to know.

**xXx**

He hates himself more when he brings guys back. Hates himself for doing with them what he can never do with Robin; driving them both into a frenzy as he worries at the skin of their throat. Hates himself for pretending that they're someone else, someone who can never love him back. In the mornings he always makes sure they're long gone, too afraid Robin will realise what the never ending stream of pale skin and dark hair means. Robin just looks through him, message clear: he doesn't care.

**xXx**

He hates himself most when he goes to Robin, desperate and lovesick in the light of Robin's obvious indifference. Hates the way Robin turns his head away, refuses his kiss, proof he isn't good enough. Hates the way he's never strong enough to stay away, to tell Robin that every time they do this his useless heart breaks a little more. In the mornings he always hesitates, fingers hovering over the unblemished skin of Robin's perfect neck, his attempt to tell Robin how much more he means to him. As much as he tries he can never force himself to face Robin's accusing gaze, to have Robin make the message clear: he doesn't feel the same way.

So, whatever Robin is willing to give, no matter how much it hurts, he'll take gladly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	48. Chloe / Vlad, written for fiction_drabbles prompt #39 'windows'.

The entire place smells dank and musty, the air thick with rot and death. She makes her way over to the heavy curtains, not wanting to see his pale face and lifeless eyes.

"You should let some air in," she tells him, "it's not healthy."

She jumps a little - enough for him to notice - to find nothing but brick wall, and he offers her a sad half smile. Snorts with amusement she can tell he doesn't feel.

"Better safe than sorry, isn't it?"

When she leaves at dawn, it is for the last time. She never looks back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	49. Count / Eric van Helsing, written for fiction_drabbles prompt #40 'sick'.

"Robin?" Vlad starts, hesitant. The images on the page have left him feeling sick and shaken.

"Mmm?" Robin doesn't look up, too engrossed in his sketch book, the side of his hand black with graphite. Vlad swallows and forces himself to speak,

"What is  _this_?"

He can't bring himself to elaborate further; Robin's wide-eyed shock tells him that he doesn't need to.

"It's not what it looks like, Vlad."

"Really?" Vlad accuses, wishing Robin weren't so accomplished an artist, "Because it looks like my Dad and Mr. Van Helsing doing-" He flusters, " _it_ "

For once, Robin doesn't have a comeback.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	50. Robin / Vlad, jealousy.

Vlad thinks that being a vampire is really not so bad when you sit down and look at it objectively. You've always got a conversation starter and, now they keep Tesco open 24/7 and everything, it's not even like there's nothing to do but sit around in your coffin and contemplate ritual suicide just to add a bit of drama to your unlife.

The problem is, he argues back – silently, because he doesn't want to freak Robin out by talking to himself – is that he can't look at it objectively. Because, in all the ways that matter, being a vampire really  _really_ sucks.

Take tonight, for instance.

Robin, who has been preening in front of his bedroom mirror for the better part of two hours, is going to go out with all his new university friends, get drunk, possibly have unprotected sex with a girl whose name he won't be able to remember in the morning, and then ring him up to tell him all about it.

Vlad can do none of these things.

Firstly, he has no reflection; which makes getting ready ten times more difficult than it ought to be. The vampires he's met at councils could never be described as friends, even by the loosest definition. And the only other people he meets are slayers who invariably want to drive a stake through him.

This stake being very much of the non-euphemismistic kind.

And, he bitterly adds to his mental list, were he to have unprotected sex with a girl – which he doesn't think he would because a) he doesn't really like girls very much in  _that way_ , and b) it's morally objectionable. Coupled with the fact that he wouldn't really know what he was doing because he's been sort of hoping that one day soon Robin will want to show him – it might result in a baby.

Which would be bad because it's not like when it happened to Great Uncle Armand in 1722, now they have machines that can tell they're not normal, and don't have properly developed lungs, and scarcely any haemoglobin, and all sorts of other medical things he doesn't understand.

"You should come," Robin tells him, breaking through his disjointed thoughts, "you can meet all my friends." Robin looks up at him then, all big brown eyes and crooked grin, and Vlad has to concentrate on the university fire action plan pinned to Robin's notice board, so his best friend can't see the effect he has on him. And to hide how jealous he is of the fact Robin has new friends.

Last year Robin didn't make any and, as selfish and horrid as it makes him sound, Vlad was glad.

"I can't," Vlad fidgets restlessly. "It's too dangerous." He finally manages to make eye contact with Robin, although not before raking his treacherous gaze up Robin's long denim clad legs and broad shoulders, and says, "What if I can't control myself when I'm in there? What if I bite someone?"

Robin grins and responds with his usual, "But you know how much I want you to sink your teeth into my succulent flesh," but Vlad can see the understanding in his expressive eyes.

It had been Robin's eyes that had first made him realise that the restless feeling he could never shift was love. Well, sort of. He had read in a magazine – and not one he had bought himself because he did have some taste – that when you loved someone you just wanted to be near them all the time. To stare deep into their eyes and share a 'connection' meant for just you and them.

He had tried it out on Robin during double physics, gazing at him over their incompetently connected circuit board – if he had sat an exam, Vlad thinks, he would have definitely failed – and been convinced that the magazine was right. It made him feel all sort of jittery inside, like when they did the experiment with static electricity, and wish that he could tell Robin about the discovery.

Robin had just stared at him like he was insane.

"You will be careful tonight, won't you?" Vlad asks, the words tumbling from his lips before he can stop himself. He doesn't know what he'd do if something bad were to happen to Robin. Not when he isn't there to protect him from it.

"I'm a big boy now, Vlad," Robin scoffs, puffing out his chest and squaring his shoulders a little. "I can look after myself."

That only worries him more. Once Robin walked into a door and broke his nose. It hadn't even been a see through door, like the conservatory he'd seen at Delila's house on the sole occasion he'd been invited there. Vlad thinks that, once Robin's been drinking and smoking weed and taking whatever else it is that art students take, he's only going to be less capable of looking after himself.

"I know," he says, tone placating because he doesn't want to argue with Robin, "but I worry about you."

Robin shifts uncomfortably, in the way Vlad has learned means he's being too openly emotional or sentimental, before coughing to hide the awkward silence.

"I suppose I should get going," Vlad says reluctantly, thinking about how much he'd rather stay in Robin's room all night. Until it got so light he'd have to stay there all day too. "Lots of work to do."

"Vlad," Robin says, and it sounds like more of a sigh. Fond frustration, he thinks after a moment's deliberation. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?" Vlad shrugs, although he knows. They've had this discussion before. Enough times that he ought to know every argument by heart. In truth, he does, but he likes to hear Robin repeat them all the same. Everything sounds better when Robin says it. Except Romanian because, no matter how hard Robin tries, it still sounds like unintelligible garble.

Not that he cares.

Robin pushes a pile of clothing and stationary and what seems like half of his possessions from the bed to sit next to him, entwining their hands with a determined expression. "I'm not going to do anything. I wouldn't."

"Promise?"

Robin shakes his head, like he can't believe he has to say it again, but Vlad knows he'll humour him anyway. He always does. There's a press of a kiss to his cheek, and Vlad feels his chest constrict like his unbeating heart is attempting to kick start, and then Robin slides one hand into his hair and smiles like he couldn't be happier. Not even if the twins got amnesia and everyone finally gave in and let him sleep in a coffin every night, not just on special occasions.

_"Promise."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	51. Robin / Vlad, character death. Written for slashthedrabble prompt #239 'air'.

"Robin,  _wake up!_ " Vlad begs, brushing back sodden hair, ignoring the splash of tears against too pale skin. " _Please._ "

Still silence is his only response and Vlad tries to remember what he'd been taught, back when it had only mattered because he wanted another embroidered badge to prove he was human.

The effort of exhaling burns like fire in his chest, the ache of muscles long unused as he forces air past the very first touch of their lips. Later, admitting defeat, he sobs helplessly into the icy skin of Robin's neck.

He'd kept a promise.

And lost a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	52. Robin / Vlad. Robin / Ingrid. Angst galore!

"I love you more than anything," she hears Vlad assure, even through the castle walls. "I'd never look at anyone else."

It makes her feel sick to the stomach. To hear the misplaced adoration in his voice, see the pathetic reverence on his face. To think that the future of the vampire race is in his hands.

Branagh doesn't feel the same way, she knows. Can tell from the lingering glances he casts her way, and the hammering of his heart whenever she meets his eye. If she tells him to jump, she's certain, his only question would be 'how high?'

She drags it out, waits until Branagh comes to her. Vlad has the crown and the title, and she isn't stupid. But, not even the mention of Vlad's name sends him packing, and she can't help but smirk cruelly as he desperately tries to impress.

It's better than she thought it would be, fingers trailing fire across her icy skin until she can almost believe she's alive. She thinks, for the first time, that she can understand what 'His Grandness' sees in him.

Later, Vlad asks why. She stares into his red rimmed eyes and shrugs,

"Because I could."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	53. Robin / Vlad, written for slashthedrabble prompt #242 'cut'.

" _What_ ," Vlad asks, and Robin can't help but smirk at the shake in his voice, "are you doing?" He concentrates on pressing the edge of the blade into the skin of his wrist, biting at his lip as the blood wells, red and slick.

"We've talked about this, Vlad," he scolds lightly, "Don't keep asking stupid questions."

There's no answer, and when Robin glances up it's to find Vlad inches from his face, eyes black and expression pained with the effort of restraining himself. The sight makes his pulse skip faster in excitement, breath coming short and shallow as the moment stretches on and on between them.

And, then, it's broken. The knife falling from his grip even as the desperate noise torn from the back of Vlad's throat hangs heavily in the air.

Vlad's fingers are icy cold against his overheated skin, his movements clumsy with want as he brings Robin's wrist to his mouth. Robin watches as Vlad's eyelashes flutter against his pale cheek, the look of bliss on his face and the smudging of his blood across his lips.

Robin doesn't know if it's blood loss or wish fulfilment but, by the time Vlad has drunk his fill, it's only the other boy's hold keeping him on his feet.

"That was such a stupid thing to do," Vlad murmurs in his ear, clutching him to his chest as he helps him sit, running one hand across his back. "I could have killed you."

"Vlad," Robin yawns, rubbing his wrist against one denim clad thigh, the itch keeping him from sleep, "'Ow many more times? Only one of us is stupid."

The words are slurred and Vlad smiles, presses a kiss into Robin's dishevelled hair. Too sated to really worry about what has just happened.

"Whatever you say."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	54. Robin / Vlad, written for slashthedrabble prompt #241 'test'.

"And you're  _sure_  this is a good idea?" Vlad looked at first the card and then Chloe sceptically. She smiled brightly,

"Of course it is.  _I_  thought of it." She shrugged lightly, dismissively Vlad thought bitterly – it wasn't  _her_  life that would get messed up if it didn't work – and went on, "Trust me, he'll love it."

Vlad chose to ignore the muttering about Robin's vanity that followed and dug into his pocket for some spare change. If it went wrong, he decided as he handed his cash over to the disinterested girl representing the Valentine's committee, it was Chloe's fault.

**xXx**

"Are you worried about this test?" Robin asked him a few days later, hauling his backpack higher over one shoulder. "Don't be. It's only a mock." Robin grinned, "I 'aven't even bothered to revise."

Vlad managed a strained smile, letting the 'why doesn't that surprise me?' remain unsaid. They were both going to fail this maths test, no matter what. Robin because he never did any work, him because he was too nervous to think about anything other than the look on Robin's face when he realised how he felt.

How he'd been feeling for months.

"Come on, cheer up," Robin nudged him playfully with one bony elbow, hard enough to bruise, and he forced another smile, "It might never 'appen!"

**xXx**

He was busy failing his third attempt at the quadratic equations when a knock at the classroom door made his heart stop short in his chest. Mr. Griffiths, glowering at the would-be interruption under his bushy eyebrows, huffed up from his desk and Vlad had to put his pen down, pressing his suddenly sweaty palms against the tabletop.

"Do you mind if we give these out, Sir?" Paul Branagh asked cheerfully, waving a cellophane clad rose about and grinning pointedly at Vlad.

He wanted to be sick.

Griffiths was not impressed with the display of holiday cheer. "I certainly  _do_  mind, Branagh." Paul frowned in confusion and Griffiths elaborated, "Take a look around you. Are these the faces of children who can afford to be interrupted so close to exams?"

Robin scowled and Gary Miller, the resident maths genius, opened his mouth to protest but Paul got in first,

"Aw, Sir, come on. It's for charity."

Griffiths sneered, but took the bag all the same and had the door shut in Paul's face before he had chance to complain. Vlad held his breath, heart pounding an irregular pattern against his ribcage until Griffiths returned to his desk and dumped the bag into the waste paper basket.

"If any of you have a problem," he ground out over the groans of discontent, "I suggest you take it up with your head of year."

**xXx**

"I can't believe he did that!" Robin exclaimed at lunch, crunching agitatedly on the carrot sticks Mrs. Branagh had replaced his customary Mars bar with. Chloe shot Vlad a sympathetic smile and patted his arm with the air of a patronising aunt,

"Better luck next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	55. Robin and Vlad go on holiday. By some strange coincidence the van Helsings have chosen the same destination...

"Aw, look at that!" Robin pointed at the brochure excitedly, his outright refusal to take part in the scheme seemingly forgotten. "She is  _fit_."

Vlad scowled at the bronzed figure, the scant few inches of material she had seen fit to wear barely covering anything. "Yeah, well, we're not going there." He placed the brochure he'd been looking at down on top of it, "I was thinking something more like this."

Robin looked at first the picture of children building sandcastles, a donkey in a hat filling the background, then at him in disbelief. "Is your name Graham Branagh? We ain't going to Margate."

"Why not?" Vlad peered at it closely, "It's got a beach."

"You said you wanted to go somewhere sunny?" Robin said, tone persuasive, "Cos it's your last chance, right?"

Reluctantly, Vlad nodded. He didn't like where this was going.

"Well, it won't be sunny there, will it? Ah," he held out a hand to stop Vlad's protests, "It'll rain all summer, you've seen the news. But," he gestured at the brochure he'd been leering at again, "If we go  _there_ , it'll be guaranteed to be sunny." He raised an eyebrow and Vlad looked away in the hope of being able to think more clearly,

"Your parents will never let you go to Spain with just me."

Robin grinned, "You leave them to me."

* * *

"I didn't know you had family in Spain, Vlad," Mrs. Branagh said a few days later as she handed him a plate full of steak and kidney pie. "It's lovely of them to invite you and Robin to stay with them for a few days."

Robin grinned at him, giving him a thumbs up behind his mum's back and Vlad felt his stomach sink. Aloud he managed, "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

"It'll do you both good," Mr. Branagh said, picking up his cutlery, "the pair of you could do with getting some sun. I keep mistaking Robin for a ghost when he's wandering about at night."

Paul waggled his fingers in the air and made a ghost noise at this. Ian sniggered appreciatively.

Robin scowled at all three of them, "Girls like the pale an' interesting look."

"That's why they're all lining up to 'ave a crack at you, is it?" Ian asked round a mouthful of food.

"The only thing girls like about you," Paul went on, "is when you go away."

Ian grinned and nodded.

"Boys," Mrs. Branagh scolded, sitting down, "Robin's just a late starter." She smiled at him encouragingly, "Isn't that right, Robin?"

Robin glowered into his food and murmured, just loud enough for Vlad's enhanced hearing to pick up, "I hate you all."

It was going to be a long summer.

* * *

"Dad," Vlad started awkwardly, not sure how he was going to take it, "I was thinking of going away for a few days. On holiday."

"Holiday?" The Count grimaced, "Transylvania is terrible at this time of year. The stench of breather sweat everywhere you turn."

"I, er, wasn't planning on going to Transylvania."

"No?" The Count raised an eyebrow curiously before adopting a pained expression, "You've not fallen for some sloven of a girl from Trans-Siberia, have you? I won't have goats wandering around my castle."

"Me and Robin," he started, not getting any further before Ingrid cut him off,

"Don't tell me," she said, tone mocking, even as she worked at sharpening the knife she was currently holding, "you want to whisk Branagh off to Paris and confess your undying love."

Vlad glared at her. Robin would hate that; his usual response to the subject of France being a frowned, 'What's the point of it? Everyone speaks French.'

"Ingrid," the Count whined, "your brother is not a breather lover."

Ingrid raised one eyebrow, looking pointedly at the mountain of ironing Renfield had yet to get round to. On the top of the pile was a T-shirt emblazoned with 'I love breathers'.

"Yes," the Count hissed, looking put out, "well, I'm sure he only wants to take Branagh as a snack for the journey." His tone sounded hopeful even to Vlad's ears.

" _Yeah_ ," Vlad said sarcastically. "So can I go?"

"What?" The Count asked, obviously distracted by the increasing volume of Renfield's fearful begging from the other side of the room, Ingrid readying the knife's aim, a wobbly X chalked just above his head, "Yes, yes, carry on."

"Aw, yes!" Vlad grinned. His triumph was shortlived as Renfield howled in pain, Vlad scrunched up his face in sympathy at the sight of where  _exactly_  the knife had struck.

"You missed!" The Count crowed in glee.

Ingrid turned to face them both, smirking,

"I didn't."

* * *

 "You'll ring us when you get there?" Mrs. Branagh said anxiously, fussing with Robin's collar.

"Yes," Robin whined, rolling his eyes.

"And you'll wear sunscreen?" Mr. Branagh said, checking over their flight tickets again.

" _Yes_."

"And you'll do as Vlad's auntie and uncle say?" Mrs. Branagh went on, attempting to pet at Robin's hair before he jerked away. Vlad looked at the floor guiltily; he might know plenty of people in Spain but none of them were the kindly – breathing - relatives Mrs. Branagh was doubtless picturing.

" _Yes!_ " Robin scowled, "Are you going yet or what?"

Mrs. Branagh hugged him and kissed his cheek despite his squirming and protesting, before doing the same to Vlad who just let her, quite liking the mollycoddling. Mr. Branagh looked awkward for a moment before handing them their tickets and hugging Robin as well, then, embarrassed got out his car keys and led his wife to the airport car park.

Robin waited all of four seconds before turning to Vlad and grinning widely, "This," he gestured towards the check-in gate with his passport, "is going to be so awesome!"

* * *

 

"I'm Robin," Robin grinned, telling the girl who was sat on the end of their row. Vlad scowled and slouched further into his seat. They hadn't even left the runway yet and Robin was already trying to chat some stupid girl up. "I like your hair."

"Yeah, great," the girl sneered, putting earphones in, "talk to me again and I'll get you moved."

Robin turned back to Vlad, shrugging, "She must be a lesbian."

Vlad hid his face in one hand in embarrassment. Robin was, as usual, oblivious.

"It's so cool how you got this arranged," he went on, pulling open a packet of sweets and starting to eat, "you're like a vampire celebrity or something."

" _Robin_ ," he hissed, "keep your voice down!" The rest of the outbound flight to Majorca did not need to know about his status as the Grand High Vampire.

" _What_  is your problem?" Robin huffed, shaking his head and putting his own earphones in.

Vlad just sighed.

It was going to be a  _really_  long summer.

* * *

Meanwhile…

"Dad," Jonno hissed, pushing his way up the narrow gangway and dropping into his designated seat, "Can you  _please_  just try to act like a normal dad. Just for once?"

"Jonno," Van Helsing soothed, shooting an apologetic smile at his neighbour as he too slid into his seat, "What do I keep telling you? A slayer must be forever on his guard."

"There are no such things as slayers!" Jonno protested. "No vampires, no ghosts, no aliens; they're all just made up. But do you know what there are?" Jonno glowered at his Dad, "Terrorists."

Van Helsing shifted uncomfortably.

"Would you like to tell me, Sir," Jonno mimicked the deep tones of the airport security guard, "why your suitcase is full of offensive weaponry?"

"I might," Van Helsing grimaced, "have gone a little overboard with the stakes. Still," he winced harder, shifting restlessly, "I've learned my lesson there, believe you me."

Jonno just shook his head, glancing up as the air hostess began her safety demonstration. "I just want to go on a normal holiday, like a normal family. Is it too much to ask?"

There was no answer.

* * *

 "So I was thinking we could get the bus and go see these old ruins," Vlad started, holding out the tourist guide he'd brought along. Robin eyed him up as if he were completely deranged,

"Vlad, we're on holiday." He gestured towards the window, "There are loads of fit girls down there just waiting for some handsome young man," he pointed at himself, grinning widely, "i.e. me, to sweep them off their feet."

"Yeah, well they'll be waiting a long while yet," Vlad murmured sullenly, watching as Robin gathered together towels, sunscreen and money.

"Later on, can we go an' meet your vampire friends properly?"

"They're not my  _friends_ ," Vlad grimaced. "They think it's an honour to cater for the 'Grand High Vampire' and his breather  _pet_." He stressed the last, hoping it stung. Robin seemed entirely oblivious.

"Aw, they looked so cool last night Vlad." He shook his head in remembered awe. "But," he dumped the stuff into Vlad's arms for him to carry, "for now, let's go pull some girls."

* * *

 "Dad, what are you doing?"

Van Helsing motioned for him to keep back, so they were both half hidden behind a tree, looking out onto the pool area.

"The bar guy's looking over. They'll think you're some kind of pervert."

"I'm just making sure we're clear of the enemy."

"There's a load of Germans over there," Jonno inclined his head, looking over at a group of leggy blondes with wistful eyes. When there was no response he said, "Alright, alright. Bad joke, I know."

Van Helsing just gripped his shoulder tightly. "They're here, Jonno. They're  _here_."

"Who are here?" Jonno asked. "The little green men come to take you back home to the planet of the nutters?"

"No, it's him." Van Helsing gestured an arm out and Jonno followed it until his gaze fell on enough brilliantly white skin to blind a man. He groaned.

Vlad Count.

* * *

 "She's looking at me."

"She's glaring at you," Vlad amended.

"Aye, well, it's the same thing, isn't it?"

Vlad just shook his head and watched as Robin squirmed more completely into the shade of the sun umbrella.

"What?" Robin snapped, "I don't want to get a tan."

An idea formed. A brilliant 'why didn't I think of it before' sort of idea. "Robin," he started casually, "when was the last time you put some sun cream on?"

"I dunno, before we came down?"

Vlad grinned. "You know you should put some on every two hours? Your Mum said I should make sure you did."

"I think I know how often you should apply sun cream," Robin said with an air of superiority, "I've not been sunburnt since I was eight."

Vlad grabbed the bottle, heart hammering in anticipation, "I'll put some on for you then. Sit up."

"Don't you think we'll look a bit," Robin glanced back over at the girls; they scowled back, "gay?"

"Of course not," Vlad lied easily. When Robin still didn't move, he went on, "I think your shoulders are starting to look a bit red." Robin moved quicker than he'd ever seen him, sitting up to give Vlad access. Vlad swallowed, touching tentative fingers to the heated skin of Robin's back.

He'd never had an opportunity to touch Robin before. Now he knew what it felt like he was going to make up excuses whenever he got the chance. By the time Robin lolled his head forward to let him smear cream across the back of his neck Vlad was certain it had been the best ten minutes of his life.

Robin moved away then, turning round to face him and he battled to keep the disappointment off his face. Robin smiled at him lazily, taking the bottle from him,

"Turn round then, my arms aren't that long."

* * *

By evening Robin was beginning to accept that the girls he'd been staring longingly over at all day just weren't interested. "You sure you can't use your vampire powers on them?" He asked, for what had to be the twelfth time.

Vlad sighed, "Yes, I'm sure." Robin sighed despondently, slumping back onto the sun lounger,

"Can we go an' see these vampires instead then?"

"I don't think it's a good idea," Vlad told him, doing his best to avoid Robin's pleading gaze. He was too liable to cave in at the first sight of those big brown eyes. "Like I told you earlier, they think you're my," he hesitated before saying it anyway, " _pet._ "

"I can pretend," Robin enthused, sitting up again, the earlier excitement at the prospect of meeting yet more vampires back full force.

Vlad shook his head incredulously, "Do you even have any idea what it means?" Robin shrugged, confirming his suspicions, and Vlad battled with his conscience over his next course of action. After a long moment he decided that if Robin didn't like it when they got there, well, it would serve him right.

* * *

"They're probably just going to get some food," Jonno complained, fed up of tracking Vlad and Robin all across town. This wasn't the holiday he'd envisioned. His dad nodded seriously,

"Exactly. A  _bite_  to eat. It's a good job we were here, Jonno."

Jonno didn't trust himself to answer civilly, so kept his mouth shut.

* * *

Vlad rapped at the door carefully, using the code he'd been shown the night before. Robin was tugging at the collar of his T-shirt insistently and asking, "Do you think I've caught the sun?" Before he could answer the door was pulled open and Vlad swallowed thickly at the change in both temperature and atmosphere.

Suddenly this didn't seem anywhere near as good an idea.

"Your Grandness," a pretty vampiress with heavily kohled eyes bowed low before him and Vlad shifted uncomfortably on the spot. He felt like an idiot. Behind him Robin had his chin tilted up, gaze fixed on the elaborately painted ceiling,

"Awesome!"

The vampiress raised an eyebrow. "I see your," she hesitated, distaste evident, "companion has not been marked." Vlad looked hurriedly to the unblemished skin of Robin's neck and bit at his lip.

"I was, uh, saving it for later." He nodded hopefully, "Yeah." The tall dark haired vampire stood behind her stared down at him haughtily and Vlad took an instinctive step closer to Robin, wishing he could curl their hands together. Robin didn't seem at all concerned,

"Where's the crypt in 'ere then?"

With matching toothy grins the vampires led them down a narrow flight of stairs and Vlad threw caution to the wind, touching one hand to Robin's shoulder and refusing to let go. If Robin asked, he'd say it was part of the act. If he didn't, well, Vlad thought he might try and work up the courage to do it again sometime.

The stairwell led out into a large dark room, the air cold enough to raise gooseflesh on their arms. Robin took in the caskets knowledgeably, and would have gone for a closer look if Vlad hadn't tightened his hold on his shoulder, moving his arm to slide it around Robin's waist.

He was still distracted by Robin's wide eyed look of shock when the lid of one of the coffins opened, clattering to the floor with enough noise to make Vlad jump and dig his fingers into Robin's side. A broad shouldered vampire emerged gracefully from its resting place, slicking tongue over sharpened fang and smirking cruelly at them.

"Your Grandness," he smiled, sending shivers of fear through Vlad, "I cannot begin to tell you how much I have been looking forward to making your acquaintance."

"Vlad?" Robin whispered, clinging back to him with force, "I don't like this." They took a step back, only to find the cool press of the stone wall behind them and Vlad shook his head,

"Me neither."

* * *

"There was cabaret tonight," Jonno told his father bitterly. "We could have been watching it. But what are we doing?" He glared, "Sat outside in the cold waiting for Count and Branagh to finish their dinner."

Van Helsing pulled a face and motioned for him to keep quiet, to which Jonno just scowled harder. "And, speaking of dinner, we haven't had any of that yet either."

"Shhh!"

Just as Jonno was about to protest again there was a scream, and then another. The Van Helsings exchanged a glance before launching into action, Van Helsing hammering his shoulder against the door in an effort to break it down. Jonno rooted through his pockets for a moment before producing a skeleton key and sliding it into the lock.

* * *

"Why don't we just talk about this?" Vlad tried, sweat beading across his brow as the stake was pushed harder into his chest. "Or not!" He squeaked. "It's totally up to you."

"Silence!" Vlad shut his jaw with an audible snap. The vampires from earlier stepped forward and she was given hold of the stake, the tip still pressed painfully into his ribcage. "Don't worry," the ringleader told him, "We're not going to kill you yet." He grabbed a handful of Robin's shirt and pulled, forcing Vlad to release his grip. "Not when we have such a fresh breather to play with."

Vlad struggled against his captor, until the press of the stake forced him to keep still. Robin was shooting him a look of terror and Vlad felt a sweeping wave of inappropriate self-righteousness wash over him. Now was  _not_  the time to tell Robin, I told you so!

The elder vampire roughly yanked Robin's head to the side by his hair, running his nose along the column of Robin's exposed throat. Vlad could see the glint of fang and tried desperately to think of a way out of the situation. Robin was visibly trembling, and the vampire hesitated, the points of his sharpened teeth barely scraping skin. Instead of biting he took a moment to smirk at Vlad, "I bet you've dreamt of doing this, haven't you?"

Vlad wasn't sure if he was supposed to answer and, the next second, it became a moot point with the noisy clatter of feet coming down the staircase. Vlad thought he had never been so glad to see a Van Helsing in his entire life. The vampiress holding his hissed, and the word 'slayers' was muttered around the room.

"Unhand him," demanded Van Helsing, "or prepare to feel a whole dimension of pain."

"World," Jonno shook his head, "It's world, dad."

"World of pain," Van Helsing corrected.

The vampires looked one to the other, unsure what to make of these unlikely slayers. Van Helsing chose that moment to wave his stake about, and yell, "I said, unhand him."

In an instant they had disappeared, Robin being dropped unceremoniously to the floor. Vlad rushed to his side, helping him to his feet, and touching fingers to his throat for reassurance that he hadn't been bitten. Van Helsing coughed then, and Vlad turned reluctantly, "You just saved our lives. Thanks."

"Speak for yourself!" Robin cut in, dusting his clothes off and looking more his usual self, "We were just about to get to the good bit."

"Robin!" Vlad scowled. Jonno glanced around the room in distaste, clearly struggling to take it all in, before finally peering at his watch.

"Come on, if we go now, we'll still make it in time for the final act."

"Can't wait," Robin said dryly, but followed them upstairs obediently all the same. Outside in the cool night air, it was hard to believe they'd just been moments away from death. In fact, Vlad thought he wouldn't believe it were it not for the desperate fear still lingering in his chest. Their arms brushed as they walked, Van Helsing's triumphant murmurings putting Vlad further on edge.

This respite from trying to kill him would doubtless be short lived.

They were almost back when he dared a quick glance at Robin's face. The bridge of his nose was red from the sun, and there was a bright flush to his cheeks. Vlad deliberated for long moments, too long, because then they were there and the moment was gone.

* * *

Later, back in the room they were sharing, Vlad caught Robin staring at him intensely. "What's wrong?" He asked, frowning, scared it might be something serious. Impatient at the prospect of him wanting something annoying, like for him to go and liberate that spider from the bathroom.

Robin looked away and spoke quietly, "I wasn't scared earlier – seriously," he met his eye to show his sincerity, "I wasn't. It – it felt…" Robin blushed harder and Vlad suddenly had an insight into what Robin might be trying to tell him. "It felt really good," Robin managed at last, fixing him with a plaintive look,

"Except for one thing."

Vlad, barely daring to breathe, sat next to him, the scent of sun cream and chlorine thick in the air. "Yeah?"

Robin touched his hand to Vlad's gingerly, expression somewhere between hopeful and outright terror,

_"I wished the vampire doing it was you."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	56. Robin & Vlad, written for fiction_drabbles prompt #243 'winter'.

"Batman and Robin?" Vlad suggested, thinking of the perfectly adaptable cape Great Uncle Armand had sent him the previous Christmas.

"I'm not being the sidekick," Robin told him sulkily, folding his arms across his chest. "Especially not to you."

Vlad bit at the inside of his lip, reminding himself that he  _wanted_  Robin to forgive him for wiping his mind clean. "I never said you would be."

Robin smiled then, malicious around the edges. "Good. 'Cos your pasty white legs?" He grinned still wider, and Vlad didn't think he was meant to like where this was going,

"Made for shorts."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	57. Robin / Vlad, 'tradition'.

"You have to, it's tradition!"

"I don't  _have_  to do anything."

" _Please_  Robin," Vlad pleaded. "Nobody else will do it with me."

"Jonno would," Robin grinned, "if you hypnotised him for long enough."

"You're not funny."

"That's not what your mam says."

Vlad shook his head, pulling a face. "If you're going to be like this I don't even want you to do it."

"Fine." Robin scowled.

"Fine."

The stand off lasted one moment, two, before Robin gave in, glaring up at the mistletoe.

When he pulled away Vlad stared back at him wide eyed, and Robin shrugged,

"It's tradition."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	58. Robin / Vlad, set of drabbles written for centi_50.

**Nobody's Side – Chess:**

"You always take her side."

"No," Vlad frowned, dropping his uneaten sandwich back into his lunchbox in disgust, "I don't." Vlad thought that Robin seemed to get his own way most of the time so, even if he did, it wasn't making much difference.

"You do!" Robin insisted, glowering first in the direction his sister had just gone, and then back at Vlad. " _I'm_  supposed to be your best friend. You should take my side."

Vlad shrugged apologetically, "Chloe's ideas are always better."

"That," Robin sneered, Vlad resigning himself to putting up with a lengthy sulk, "is not the point."

* * *

**Shelter From The Storm – Bob Dylan:**

"Still think Chloe's ideas are better than mine then?" Robin hissed, holding his coat over his head in an attempt to shelter from the pounding rain.

Vlad glared but kept quiet. Robin wouldn't be able to hear him anyway, the rain was coming down harder still, clattering off the concrete roof and stinging where it hit his exposed skin.

He was startled when warm fingers curled around his shoulder, pulling him closer until he was pressed tight against his best friend's side. Robin met his curious gaze with a crooked smile,

"Don't want you to catch your undeath, do I?"

* * *

**One Moment in Time – Whitney Houston:**

It had been a single moment that made Vlad realise. The dawn of understanding blinding, clarity where before there had been nothing but ignorance.

Pressed close against Robin's side, body heat seeping through his thin uniform shirt, one hand wrapped casually around his shoulder.

He finally had the friendship he'd always dreamed of. The  _human_  companionship he'd almost given up hope of ever attaining. The easy acceptance he'd already spent a lifetime craving.

Robin smiled at him, wide and unguarded, and Vlad couldn't hide from the truth.

He might have everything he'd ever wanted but - he still wanted more.

* * *

**My Junk – Spring Awakening:**

"Shall I just chuck it down here?"

"Chuck it down!?" Robin protested. "That ain't just any old junk, Vlad!  _That_  is going to get me a girlfriend!"

Vlad peered into the carrier bag and pulled a face. Kelsey didn't strike him as the sort of girl who would appreciate a cuddly bat. With that in mind he resolved to let Robin give it to her.

Robin sank down onto his bed, kicking a pile of clean clothes to the floor with one foot. "This time tomorrow I'll be hooked up."

"Yeah," Vlad hid a smirk, "I'm sure you will be."

* * *

**You Give Me Something – James Morrison:**

"I can't believe she said yes," Vlad said numbly, staring unseeingly across the canteen as Kelsey sashayed away, the rest of her gang close behind.

Robin scowled, "You never 'ave any faith in me. Of course she said yes, I'm fit. And don't say I'm not," Robin waved his half eaten sandwich around for emphasis, "you're not a girl, so you don't know anything about it."

Vlad bit at his lip, contradicting him would only make things worse, he knew.

"Your problem, Vlad," Robin told him with an air of finality, "is that you need to give me more credit."

* * *

**You Don't Bring Me Flowers – Neil Diamond and Barbara Streisand:**

You don't bring  _me_  flowers, Vlad thought bitterly. Irrationally. There was no good reason why Robin should. No reason he was willing to make public knowledge at any rate.

"She loved them, Vlad," Robin bragged, slouching back into his seat, "she's going to show me how much later. Get my drift?" He raised a lecherous eyebrow and it was all Vlad could do not to snarl.

"You ought to get a girlfriend too," Robin went on, "we could go on a double date."

Vlad shrugged, trying to look disinterested, "I don't want one."

"You," Robin shook his head, "are weird."

* * *

**Bad Romance – Lady GaGa:**

Vlad watched forlornly as Robin and Kelsey got serious, the sight of her hand in his like a knife to the heart. Robin didn't notice, too busy daydreaming and bragging and, Vlad thought nastily when it felt like the pain would never ease, being self absorbed.

Until, suddenly, he did notice. Wanted to know why he was miserable and snappish. Vlad was almost flattered until he caught Robin eyeing up his canines with an intensity bordering on unsettling.

Robin denied it and, in weak moments, Vlad let himself believe his defence.

_You're my best mate and I care about you._

* * *

**I Want to Break Free – Queen:**

Vlad gave Robin a questioning look as the other boy slammed into his bedroom, throwing himself down on Vlad's bed.

"I've 'ad enough, she's doing my head in!"

"So," Vlad sat up properly, snapping his book shut, "I take it you didn't have a nice time at the cinema?"

"No!" Robin shook his head viciously, oblivious to the sarcasm. "I did not."

Out of Robin's line of sight Vlad allowed himself a victorious grin, only barely resisting the urge to punch the air in triumph. For weeks now he and Kelsey had been at war.

And he had just won.

* * *

**Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want – The Smiths:**

This time, Vlad was determined; he was going to tell Robin the truth. Tell Robin the real reason why he wasn't interested in that girl Kelsey had tried to set him up with. Why he couldn't stand to be in Kelsey's presence in the first place.

Robin beat him to it, grinning at the look of shock on his face when he opened the door. "Bright an' colourful," Robin said, pressing the garish bouquet into his hands, "I knew you'd like them."

Vlad smiled back, stepping aside to let him in. "I do. Almost as much as I like you."

* * *

**Two of Us – The Beatles:**

"Everyone's laughing at us," Robin told him quietly as he slid into his seat. " _Everyone._  Vlad glanced around them, the sniggering and the half hidden smirks providing ample proof. He met Robin's eye then and shrugged,

"I don't care."

"At all?" Robin pressed, clearly unconvinced.

Vlad shook his head, touching one hand to Robin's, gratified to see the way Kelsey sneered across the room at him in response. Jealousy, he thought happily, was not a good look for her.

"That's your problem, Robin," he grinned, hoping Robin would realise he wasn't being serious, "you just don't give me enough credit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	59. Robin, written for gen_drabble prompt #49 'swing'.

He had the most embarrassing parents in the entire world; there was no doubt about it.

"What do you think of this?" His mam would ask, completing a twirl, the swirling colours enough to make his eyes bleed.

"Very trendy," his dad would say. Then he'd nudge Robin and grin and tell him how lucky he was to have such hip and swinging parents.

Robin didn't agree.

His dad bored Vlad with all his bad jokes, and his mam always kissed his cheek in the street.

And they  _still_  had the audacity to wonder why he wished he was adopted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	60. Jonno POV, how to cope when your dad's a madman.

"He's a vampire!"

"Dad, he's not a vampire."

Jonno shook his head, glancing across the canteen to where Vlad was sat. He had known Vlad for almost four years now; they were in the same registration class. Jonno was sure he'd remember it if Vlad had ever done anything remotely vampiric.

"How can you be sure?" His dad asked, punctuating his point with a jab of his chip laden fork.

Jonno didn't answer.

It had been like this for as long as he could remember. His dad thought anyone who was a bit weird was a vampire. He had once tried to stake the albino boy who worked behind the till at the newsagents on the corner. Jonno had had to agree to do two paper rounds for  _months_  in order to convince the owner not to ring the police.

And then there was the time they had been banned from the bowling alley because his dad couldn't distinguish between the undead and a group of acne ridden teenagers with plastic fangs.

Sometimes he thought his mum had had the right idea when she had upped and left.

Sometimes.

"He is a vampire," his dad said, oblivious to the thoughts swirling around Jonno's head, "and, this weekend, we're going to prove it."

 

 

* * *

 

The next day Vlad wasn't in school, their form tutor joked that he was celebrating his birthday a day early, and Jonno hoped his dad would forget about the whole thing.

His dad was like an elephant though, he never forgot anything.

He wasn't a big fan of mice either.

Maths was his last lesson of the day. Jonno looked forward to it because it was the one subject where everything made sense. There were no ifs or maybes in maths. Just numbers and facts.

Trust his dad to ruin it for him.

"Branagh," his dad was saying as he entered the classroom, "How many times have I spoken to you about using a phone in school?"

Robin frowned at him. "None, Sir."

"Don't backchat me, son." His dad was using his best teacher tone and Jonno cringed, slumping down into his usual seat. He was so embarrassing. "Hand it over."

"Aw, what! That's not fair!"

Jonno braced himself for it. The response he'd been getting ever since he had learned to form the words.

"Life is many things, Branagh, but trust me, it's never fair."

Robin threw his bag down on his own desk, scowling. His dad went about giving out the work Mr. Griffiths had left for them to do. Jonno clenched his hand around his pen so tightly he wondered if it might snap.

It was obvious.

This was all part of the plan.

 

 

* * *

 

Before his dad became  _completely_  obsessed with vampires and they had had to move to Stokely, Jonno always had something to do. His mum would nag him to tidy his room or Martin, his best friend, would want to come round to play computer games.

Now he didn't even have anyone to go to the youth club with.

Nobody wanted to come back to the cramped caravan to have one of their teachers watch their every move.

His dad didn't understand.

This was what Jonno was thinking as he trailed miserably behind his dad, trying his best not to worry about where they were going. You never knew with his dad. Most of the time it was all he could hope that, whatever it was his dad wanted to do, it would be legal.

"Here we are," his dad said after they had been walking for about half hour, smiling all across his face.

Jonno looked around. There was nothing to see but trees and litter and dirt. His dad squatted down and brushed away a pile of empty crisp packets and coke cans, revealing what looked like a manhole cover.

"Help me lift it, will you?"

"I'm not going down a sewer!"

There was absolutely no way. He had done a lot of things to humour his dad. Tried to make friends with Vlad's even weirder best mate, Robin, and dressed up as a pizza delivery girl to deliver a garlic laden pizza to Vlad's older sister.

Neither scenario had ended well.

"This is not a sewer!" His dad exclaimed, huffing and puffing with the effort of lifting the heavy slab. " _This_  is my office."

For an awful moment Jonno had an image of his dad setting up a desk amongst the sewage, his shoes sliding in the filth as he drew up maps of the inside of Vlad's home. He wasn't sure if what he actually saw when his dad led the way down the ladder was any better.

The walls were lined with weaponry and paintings of their dead relatives, many clenching stakes in their hands.

Insanity clearly ran in the family.

"What is this place!?" Jonno demanded, wondering if the police knew about it, and how quickly his mum could get back from Scotland if they sent his dad away in a straight jacket.

His dad fished Robin's mobile phone from his jacket pocket, even though Jonno knew that confiscated items were supposed to be left in the drawer in the headmistress' office.

" _This_  is where we're going to rid Stokely of vampires. Forever."

 

 

* * *

 

This would never work. Never. Jonno wiped his sweaty palm against the leg of his jeans and stared at the screen of the phone again.

"I just want to talk to him," his dad had said, "there's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

Jonno felt stupid for believing him.

And, anyway, what if the rumours weren't true? What if Vlad couldn't think of anything he'd  _less_  like to do than sneak out in the middle of the night to see Robin? Jonno thought of the way Vlad looked at Robin, the same way his dad was looking at his mum in the wedding photograph on the living room wall, and knew that his dad was right.

Vlad wouldn't be able to resist.

Still Jonno hesitated. Reading the text message – the directions - over and over. He didn't know which letters Robin would skip, and whether he would ever leave a kiss at the end. If it was too different Vlad would be able to tell and wouldn't come.

Maybe, it occurred to him suddenly, that would be better.

He would have tried, so his dad couldn't have a go.

Feeling relieved, Jonno pressed send.

 

 

* * *

 

Jonno was almost asleep, in spite of the biting cold, when there was finally a sign of life. He put down the book he had brought with him and wriggled his frozen fingers. He should never have agreed to it.

His dad should never have threatened to post his baby pictures around the sixth form common room.

"Robin?" Vlad's voice carried down from above ground, "Robin, are you down there?"

"Yes!" Jonno called then pulled a face, biting at his lip. He didn't sound anything like Robin. Nerves flooded through him. This was such a stupid idea.

He heard footsteps on the metal rungs of the ladder.

Vlad hadn't noticed.

Jonno looked around him nervously, eyeing up a crossbow fixed to the wall before pushing the idea away. It was bad enough as it was. He didn't have time to come up with a better idea because, then, Vlad was in front of him, expression murderous.

"I should have known," Vlad said quietly. Jonno couldn't tell if he was more angry or upset, he hoped for the latter. He'd be less likely to try and break his nose that way. "Where's your dad?"

"I don't –"

A loud bang cut him off and Jonno pushed past Vlad in panic, craning his neck to look up at the only exit.

Tonight couldn't possibly get any worse.

 

 

* * *

 

"It's not going to budge!" Jonno snapped half hour later, sweat trickling down the side of his face. Vlad had tried, he had tried, Vlad had tried again. They were stuck. When he turned to face Vlad the other boy's eyes were wild, and Jonno had to look away.

"It has to! You don't understand, it  _has_  to!"

"My dad will be here soon," Jonno soothed, trying to calm Vlad down. His pacing was putting him on edge. He tried Robin's mobile again, the screen stubbornly remaining blank.

Vlad dragged a hand through his hair, kicking uselessly at the disconnected computer. "I  _have_  to get out of here!"

"Look," Jonno said, suddenly angry. This wasn't his fault. "If you had to be somewhere that badly, why did you come here in the first place?"

Vlad's cheeks flushed then and Jonno wished he hadn't said anything. There was such a thing as too much information. He could imagine only too well what Vlad had expected to be doing right now.

He would never be able to look Branagh in the eye again.

"I didn't think it would take very long."

Jonno grinned then, in spite of everything. "I'll tell him that, shall I?"

Vlad gave him a withering look and shook his head, sliding down against the wall until he was sat on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest. His eyes flickered up to the crossbow Jonno had been considering earlier, and he gnawed at his lip. Jonno shifted uncomfortably in the silence.

It stretched on for one minute, two, until he was sure Vlad wasn't going to say anything at all until someone came and rescued them.

And then it was broken.

"Do you know how to use that?" He was looking up at the crossbow again.

Jonno nodded. He had used one a few times, at archery club. But that had been years ago.

"Good," Vlad swallowed audibly, wringing his hands together and not meeting his eye. "Get it down. You're going to need it."

 

 

* * *

 

Jonno couldn't believe it.  _Wouldn't_  believe it, he corrected desperately. It just couldn't be true.

"Promise me you'll use it if you have to." Vlad's voice was demanding, cutting through the numb disbelief.

Jonno looked from the crossbow in his hands to Vlad's earnest blue eyes, and back again. His dad had been right. Had always been right. It felt like déjà vu, like he had always known. The thought made him feel sick. Maybe he was hallucinating right now.

That had to be it.

He'd gone mad. The authorities would come and lock them both up, father and son.

Fingers snapped in front of his face, "Promise me!"

"Yeah," he managed eventually. It was all he could manage. "Yeah."

Vlad visibly relaxed, his limbs falling slack. Jonno chewed at the inside of his cheek and thought longingly, for what felt like the very first time, for the caravan.

 

 

* * *

 

"This is the worst birthday ever," Vlad complained as Jonno's digital watch flashed 2am. Vlad had his arms wrapped around himself, and even from the distance he had put between them, Jonno could see that he was shaking. "You're lucky I've already merged."

He didn't answer. Vlad wasn't making any sense.

Jonno realised with a start that the words had failed to produce mist in the icy air. His own heart started hammering in his chest and Vlad looked up at him intently, eyes glimmering strangely in the light of the dying fire Vlad had started.

It was a pretty good metaphor, Jonno thought with the part of his brain not cowering in fear.

Keep him talking, that had been what Vlad had told him to do. Jonno whet his lips nervously and scrabbled for a conversation topic.

"Does Robin know you're a vampire?"

It could get awkward, Jonno imagined. Cold hands. Cold  _everything_.

Vlad pushed his hands into his hair and nodded viciously. "He wants me to bite him."

"Are you going to!?" Jonno tightened his hold on the crossbow. One bloodsucker at school was more than enough.

"Of course not!" Vlad protested. "I'm not going to bite anyone."

Jonno glanced at his watch and pressed a protective hand to his throat all the same.

It was going to be a very long night.

 

 

* * *

 

The next time Vlad spoke his voice was thick, as if he had been crying, and it made Jonno feel uncomfortable.

"Are you going to kill me now?"

"I thought you were already dead," Jonno said, evading the question. He could remember, now, that he had already tried to kill Vlad. Over and over again. This entire situation was like a bad nightmare. He was a slayer. Vlad was a vampire.

To think that this morning his biggest problem had been convincing his dad to promise not read out extracts of his English essays in morning assembly ever again.

"You don't need to," Vlad started, sounding ever so slightly desperate, "I don't even want to bite you that badly."

That wasn't as comforting as Vlad obviously thought it was.

"We could make an alliance, you and me," Vlad went on, even as there was a scraping overhead, as his dad's worried voice echoed down from above ground. "We don't need to fight."

Jonno looked at the crossbow in his lap and tried to distinguish between memory and fantasy in his mind. It felt like his head was stuffed full of cotton wool. His dad was making his way down the ladder now, a few more steps and he would reach the bottom. He had to make a decision.

Vlad was giving him a pleading look, offset horribly by the flash of fang he caught. His dad rounded the corner, eyeing Vlad up suspiciously and asking Jonno if he was alright. The crossbow felt like a lead weight in his arms.

He knew what he had to do.

There was only one thing he could do.

"No, I'm not." He met Vlad's eye deliberately, crossing the room to take hold of his arm and usher him towards the ladder, "We've been freezing to death down here. You're lucky no one's locked you up, dad."

"It was an accident, Jonno!" His dad called after them, "I fell asleep!"

Above ground Vlad gave him a grateful look, holding out one hand, the other clenched tight as if he needed the help to stay in control.

"Do we have a deal then?"

Jonno sighed but held out his hand.

"Deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	61. Robin / Vlad, request fill.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin really doesn't want to be like his family, so he pretends to hate any kind of sports. But at night he isn't strong enough to ignore the desire for his secret and oh so normal obsession: playing basketball. What happens when Vlad catches him?

"What's wrong with you today then, Branagh?"

"Sore throat, Sir," Robin said, holding out his week planner. "My mam's written me a note."

"Me and your mam ought to have a chat," Jenkins said, snatching it from Robin and glancing at the note. "Someone needs to tell her what an idle little scrote you are."

He shoved Robin's planner back into his chest and Robin grinned at Vlad cheerfully. Vlad just shook his head. Robin had been his best friend for three years but he was no closer to understanding him. He knew there was nothing wrong with Robin's throat – he hadn't stopped talking all the way through their previous lesson.

"Right!" Jenkins bellowed, clapping his hands together and demanding everyone's attention. "I want the rest of you out on the pitch five minutes ago. Move!"

Vlad hung back, trusting the crunch of football studs against the changing room floor to drown out the sound of his conversation,

"You should play," Vlad said. "It's boring without you." He watched as Robin wrestled a book from his backpack. ' _How to Date a Vampire_ ' It was emblazoned with a broody teenager with a strong jaw and an even stronger resemblance to Robert Pattinson.

Sometimes Robin really asked to have the mick taken out of him.

"Obviously," Robin preened, leading the way out into the brisk autumn air. "But you'll just 'ave to survive without me."

Some of the girls passed them, meandering their way up to the hockey courts. They took one look at Vlad's bare knees and burst into giggles. Vlad blushed. So what if he wasn't built like a prop? At least he made an effort.

Which was more than could be said for Robin.

"I just don't like sports," Robin went on, "they're a waste of time."

Before Vlad got chance to disagree Jenkins was yelling his name and demanding he shift his backside. Convincing Robin would have to wait.

* * *

Vlad's hair was still damp from the changing room showers when they left the school gates, and he couldn't help wishing Robin had played. He knew it was selfish but it didn't stop him thinking about it.

If Robin did games, he'd have to shower afterwards. And that meant, if you thought about it – And he had. Did. Roughly every thirty seconds. – Vlad would get to watch. It was enough to make his cheeks burn.

"See," Robin told him, giving him a friendly nudge, "sports just knacker you out. You're still all red in the face."

Vlad almost told him that that wasn't from the rugby. Almost.

"You wouldn't catch me running around out there like a headless chicken," Robin went on. He looked so solemn as he said it that Vlad couldn't help smirking,

"No, you might work up a sweat. Couldn't have that could we?"

Robin shrugged, "Some of us just got better things to do with our time. Did you see those girls checking me out earlier? Outside the gym?"

"They weren't checking you out." Vlad said, giving Robin an incredulous look. He'd never met anyone vainer than Robin. And he had Ingrid for a sister and Count Dracula for a father.

"Of course they were," Robin assured him, looking at him with an expectant air. "Who wouldn't?"

Vlad didn't answer.

* * *

That weekend Vlad found himself sat at the Branagh's kitchen table, eating giant slabs of home made chocolate cake alongside Robin and the twins. Robin was busy sucking chocolate from his fingers and Vlad was struggling to decide whether it would look worse if he stared at Robin's mouth, or the muscles working in his throat as he swallowed.

"You coming for a kick about later, Vlad?" Ian asked, polishing off his own dessert.

He spent a lot more time with the twins since getting onto the upper school rugby team. The look of disgust that flashed across Robin's face at the question summed up how the other boy felt about the situation. Vlad quite liked it really, that Robin got jealous. It made it so much easier for him to daydream about Robin liking him back.

"Don't worry, Robin," Paul chipped in, taking in his brother's sour expression. "We wouldn't ask you." He smirked, "We all know that the only part of you that gets any exercise is your right hand."

"Haha, yeah," Ian grinned, "never gets a rest that don't, do it?"

"Shut up!" Robin scowled. Vlad deliberately didn't look in his direction.

"Boys," Mrs. Branagh scolded, bustling about the kitchen. "Robin's a very talented artist. If he wants to draw, he's perfectly entitled to."

The twins looked at each other and burst out laughing. Robin gave them both a withering look.

"You could still come," Vlad suggested, doing his best to ignore the way the twins sniggered harder at his word selection. "You're really good at football. Remember in year eight? You made the team no problem."

"Oh, that's nothing," Mrs. Branagh chipped in, giving the twins a warning look as they wiped at their eyes. "You should have seen him in primary school. We've still got all his medals."

"From football?" Vlad asked, surprised. He imagined an eight year old Robin, all dimples and grazed knees, and smiled. There were bound to be pictures somewhere. He'd have to find one and tease Robin mercilessly.

Paul started laughing harder, and Robin ground out, "don't tell him", in low tones.

Mrs. Branagh, oblivious, smiled widely, "Netball."

Vlad didn't even get chance to think of a suitably witty remark before Robin was out of his seat and storming towards his bedroom.

"Robin!" Mrs. Branagh called, "you haven't finished your cake."

There was no answer but the slamming of the kitchen door and a yelled,

"I hate you!"

* * *

"Go away!"

Vlad hesitated, Robin sounded pretty serious about it. But then, on the other hand, he couldn't just leave Robin to be upset on his own. Robin might want him to put his arm around him and be comforting.

Sometimes Vlad worried there was more vampire cunning running through him than he liked.

He pushed the door open softly, blinking as his vision adjusted to the gloom of Robin's bedroom.

"You deaf or something?" Robin snapped, not looking at him. "I told you to go away."

Vlad sat next to Robin on his bed, looking around the room. The walls were covered in drawings of fanged out vampires; some of them even looked like him. He wondered if Robin ever lay there staring at them, thinking of him. When he turned back to Robin the other boy was watching him curiously.

"I've never played netball," Vlad said, floundering under Robin's gaze, "you could teach me." There was silence for a moment and Vlad held his breath anxiously. He didn't want Robin to have another go at him. Then Robin smiled, and he could breathe again.

"I don't play anymore, give me some credit."

There was something about the way he said it that made Vlad give him a searching look. Nothing odd jumped out at him. So he smiled back and inclined his head towards Robin's television.

"Am I going to give you a kicking at Vampire Orgy Six, or what, then?"

* * *

After that Vlad tried to leave the subject alone. If Robin didn't want to kick – or throw – a ball around, well, that was his business. And if Vlad spent great chunks of his free time imagining what Robin would look like flushed and short of breath, perhaps streaked in mud and fringe falling across his forehead  _just so_ , then, nobody needed to know about that either.

It was probably because he spent so much time thinking about it that, when he first saw it, it didn't quite seem real. Just another one of his pathetic little daydreams.

The thing that swung it was that they didn't normally occur when his dad was holding up a half dead rabbit for him to sink his teeth into. (Bar that one time, but the less said about that, the better.)

"Vladdy," the Count whined, "you're not paying attention."

"I am," Vlad protested distractedly, peering behind his dad to the darkened sports courts. The park was normally deserted at this time of night, which was why he invariably ended up there for biting practice.

Anything for an easy life.

"I wonder why I bother," the Count went on, tone anguished. "I just want to give you the best start to your unlife."

Vlad bit back a sigh, "I know."

The Count perked up, "Yes, well, I'll leave you to it then." He pushed the rabbit into Vlad's hands, "there's a pig at old McElroy's farm with my name on it. Yes," the Count went on, oblivious to the look of disgust on Vlad's face, "I've been keeping my eye on it. If I can't savour the sweet taste of slayer's blood," he gave Vlad a pointed look at that, "pig is the next best thing."

"Great, dad, yeah. Have fun."

The Count disappeared then without further ado and Vlad shook his head, leaning down to deposit the rabbit – it squirmed a bit, it might even be alright, he thought – before wiping his hands on his cape and making silently across the grass.

Vlad stood in the shadows, watching the lone figure on the court through the high mesh fence. The rhythmic 'thump, thump, thump' of the ball against the ground was enough to convince him it wasn't netball. Robin had dragged him to go and watch the girls practice more than once.

He'd much  _much_  sooner watch this.

From his vantage point he could see Robin rake his hand through his hair, bouncing the ball a few more times before shooting. Vlad was surprised when the ball went straight through the hoop, and then wondered why. Mrs. Branagh had already told him Robin had the talent.

Vlad stayed and watched for twenty minutes, until Robin swiped at his forehead with the hem of his T-shirt, picking up his jacket and making for the park gates. He dawdled all the way home, trying to think of what to do next.

He had to bring this up with Robin.

But how?

* * *

"Get up to much last night?" Vlad asked Robin as casually as he could on the way to school the next morning.

"No," Robin replied, "Just went on the computer. Same as usual."

"All night?" Vlad fidgeted with the strap of his backpack.

Robin frowned, "Yeah, why?"

Vlad bit his lip, "No reason."

* * *

They had games last lesson and Robin had yet another note, Mr. Jenkins' face going red with suppressed rage as he read it and signed it off. Vlad shifted from foot to foot, wondering how best to phrase what he had to say, as Robin pulled another book from his bag.

' _Blood Ties: Vampires and Me_ ' The dust cover proclaimed it to be 'a heart wrenching tale of cold blooded love'.

Vlad pressed on,

"Are you sure you weren't doing anything last night?"

Robin stared at him. "Why would I 'ave been?"

"I just –" Vlad bit his lip. "I mean, you can tell me, you know? If you were doing anything."

"Vlad," Robin frowned, gaze intense, "are you trying to tell me something?"

He should just spit it out, Vlad knew. But then he'd have to admit that not only had he been skulking about watching Robin, he'd also been out and about killing small animals. Robin got weird about that; people were acceptable snacks, cute furry animals were not.

With that in mind Vlad shook his head. "Course not."

* * *

And, so, over the next few weeks Vlad kept quiet about what he knew. He found that Robin went out to play basketball at least twice a week, scaling the fence at the park to use the court.

He also found that the reality of watching Robin get hot and sweaty was even better than the fantasy.

And he made sure he did watch, telling his dad he wanted to practice hunting on his own. He'd never been so glad Ingrid was so busy putting her stamp on the Inner Council back home in Transylvania. She would have seen through him as soon as look at him.

It was close to the end of the school year, air sticky and humid, when Vlad got to the park to find Robin shirtless. Vlad thought the sight certainly put paid to the twins' accusation that Robin only ever exercised his right hand.

Not that Vlad would mind watching that either.

The ball clattered against the fence, catching Vlad's attention. When he looked up his heart leapt in his chest. Robin was staring right back at him.

* * *

"I-"

"-can-"

"-explain."

They both halted awkwardly, Robin running an anxious hand against the back of his neck. Vlad thought it really wasn't helping, how was he supposed to think when Robin was stroking at his neck like that?

"You look really good – looked really good. Looked. On the court I mean." Vlad looked down at his feet, sure his cheeks were glowing. His skin felt too hot and itchy, and all he wanted to do was  _touch_  Robin.

"Really?" The tone was eager and Robin coughed, "I mean, I know. That you've been watching."

Vlad risked glancing up. For once Robin looked as embarrassed as he himself felt.

"I've seen you," Robin went on, looking sheepish, "I hoped you'd be here tonight."

Vlad met Robin's gaze properly then, the statement sparking hope in his chest. Robin had expected him to turn up, and he'd  _still_  chosen to wander about half naked for the meeting.

"You could have told me," Vlad said, voice coming out soft and quiet and not at all accusatory, like he'd wanted.

Robin smiled, crookedly, in the way that always made Vlad's pulse race, "You could 'ave told me. You can tell me now," Robin continued, expression suddenly earnest, "why you want to watch me."

Vlad swallowed. This was it. There was no way he could lie his way out of it, not without coming up with something that sounded even worse.

"Why do you think?" Vlad asked, trying hard to keep his gaze on Robin's face and not on his chest – or his neck.

Robin took a breath, like he was sucking up courage, "Because, you, like everyone else in Stokely can't resist checking me out?"

Vlad gaped and all the colour drained from Robin's face.

"Or not."

If he didn't say something  _right now_  Robin was going to walk away, Vlad knew. Walk away and his chance would be gone. The thought spurred him into action and he reached out blindly, closing the distance between them to lay a hand on Robin's arm.

"No, you're right. As usual."

Robin smiled then, wide and brilliant, gaze flickering between Vlad's hand and his face. "I've been trying to get you to  _notice_  me for months, you know."

"All those terrible books?" Vlad asked, remembering suddenly.

"What do you think?" Robin asked, pressing closer still, sliding his hand around the back of Vlad's neck and leaning in to kiss him.

Vlad didn't bother with an answer.

* * *

"So why are you playing at night then?" Vlad asked later, leaning into Robin's side as they walked back from the park. "You're really good, even the twins would be impressed."

Robin stopped dead, looking at him with a horrified expression.

"You can't tell the twins!"

Vlad frowned, "Why not?"

"Why not!? Because if my mam and dad hear about this, I'll never hear the end of it." Robin shook his head, "Next thing you know they'll 'ave me camping, and helping with scouts, and  _everything_."

Vlad just grinned and shook his head, taking Robin's hand. "And that would just be terrible, wouldn't it?"

Robin nodded,

"Exactly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	62. Humour.

"Everyone's looking at us!"

"Don't be stupid, Vlad," Robin told him easily, as if they weren't surrounded by women's underwear. "What do you think?" He asked, holding up a strip of skimpy material the same colour as Vlad's cheeks and grinning lecherously, "Red or black?"

Vlad didn't particularly want to think about Delila in either, so shrugged helplessly, the back of his neck hot with embarrassment.

"Definitely the black, love," a woman's voice cut in.

Robin frowned at her and she elaborated, "I don't think red's your colour!"

Not even the murderous expression on Robin's face could stop Vlad laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	63. Robin / Vlad, songfic type thing set to Darius' 'Colourblind'.

" **Feeling blue when I'm trying to forget the feeling that I miss you."**

"Get lost, loser," Ingrid said without looking up.

"I'm _not_  a loser," Vlad sulked, flinging himself down into the nearest chair and sighing.

Ingrid turned a page of her magazine languidly, "Could have fooled me." Smirking she put it down and caught Vlad's gaze, "I suppose it depends on your definition, doesn't it? I'd say, being  _dumped_  by your loser boyfriend for some loser girl makes  _you_  the biggest loser who ever lived." She shrugged, "Un-lived, whatever."

"He didn't  _dump_  me," Vlad scowled. "It was a _mutual_  decision," he paused, trying to think of something that sounded plausible. Drawing a blank he finally snapped, "I don't care anyway."

At Ingrid's raised eyebrow Vlad got to his feet,

"I've got better things to do."

Ingrid watched calmly as he stormed towards the doorway, mouth twitching with the effort not to laugh when he tripped over a loose flagstone.

Vlad spun to face her, flushed with anger, "And, I'm _not_  a loser!"

Turning her attention back to the magazine - 'Good Mourning! Black is Back!' – she shook her head as Vlad's footsteps retreated back down the hallway. He was  _such_  a loser.

 

* * *

 

" **Feeling green when the jealousy wells and it won't go away."**  
  
"What about your friend?"

Vlad cursed his sensitive hearing as  _she_  whispered in Robin's ear, having the unfeeling, uncaring, barefaced cheek to _giggle_  as she did so. He scowled harder and tried to make himself feel better by imagining her lost at sea. Without a life jacket.

"Vlad don't mind," Robin whispered back, his hands wandering to places Vlad really wished they wouldn't whilst he was in the room. Or ever. He really wasn't fussy. "He's watching the film."

The giggle came again and Vlad shovelled a handful of popcorn into his mouth, chewing viciously. Robin's suggestion that they 'see other people' because 'we're both so young' and 'not because I don't like you Vlad, because I do' had seemed a lot easier to deal with when he didn't have to witness its consequences firsthand.

"Good," she pressed closer to Robin, Robin's breath hitching for reasons Vlad really didn't want to dwell on, " _this-"_  
  
His second handful of popcorn missed his mouth entirely, scattering all down the front of his best shirt at the realisation of just  _what_  was happening. He watched in shock as Robin's eyes slid shut, the pair of them so close she was almost in his lap.

"- doesn't need an audience."

" _No_ ," Robin shook his head, voice breathy and strained.

On screen there was a scream, the old couple in front of him jumping in shock and Vlad made his decision, scrambling to his feet and hesitating for a moment that seemed to last an eternity before dumping the popcorn bucket down over Robin's head.

Everyone, he reasoned as he pushed his way out into the cinema foyer, had their limits.

* * *

" **Feeling yellow, I'm**[confused](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5376537/81/Drabbles) inside."  
  
"Vlad, I-"

Vlad slammed the castle door in Robin's face, the force rattling the dusty chandelier overhead, and stormed back up to his bedroom. When he got there he slammed his bedroom door too and, just for good measure, flung the framed picture of him and Robin on his dresser at the wall.

Ignoring Ingrid's yell for him to 'shut up and stop being a freak' he dropped down onto his bed, wondering where it had all gone wrong. Eventually he settled on the day Robin left Stokely to start his art course; the day he'd gone from being Vlad: best friend and love of my life, in Robin's mind to Vlad: millstone round my neck.

It wasn't fair.

He was still thinking about how unfair it was that Robin would rather go out, and take advantage of anyone who showed willing, than – Vlad curled in closer to his pillow – stay in and take advantage of  _him_  when the sound of scrabbling outside his window made him sit up in panic. He moved closer to the window, ready to club  _whatever_  it was when Robin's voice rang up through the still night air,

"Help, Vlad! Quick!"

Vlad reached over and  _pulled_  at Robin's arms, finally succeeding in dragging the other boy up and over the ledge – and sending them both sprawling backwards to the floor.

"What are you doing!? You idiot! You could have killed yourself!"

Robin turned his face to the side, completing the uneasy sense of déjà vu; reminding Vlad of  _that_ day, the day when Robin had collapsed through his window and wormed his way so deeply into Vlad's heart he'd never had any hope of getting rid of him.

"Go on. You can if you want. Punch me. I deserve it."

"I'm not going to hit you, Robin," Vlad sighed and shook his head, "even if you  _do_  deserve it."

Robin grinned at him, "Thanks, Vlad. It would have hurt. A lot." The smile fell and he looked at Vlad nervously, his dark eyes making Vlad squirm and his chest ache with longing. "I am sorry, Vlad. Really, I am. Are we still friends?"

"Yeah," Vlad clenched his fingers into the rug beneath him, struggling with the urge to just fling himself at Robin and beg him to never let go, "Yeah, of course."

What other answer could he give?

 

* * *

 

" **Feeling red** **when you spend all your time with your friends and not me instead."**  
  
The moment he stepped through the door Vlad felt terminally out of place; his striped sweater was attracting more than a few malicious stares and the blare of the music – something that seemed to involve nothing but drums and screaming – was scraping against his every nerve.

If it wasn't for the sight of Robin at the bar, cheeks flushed and eyes shining, Vlad got the feeling he'd have just turned round and gone home. As it was he made straight for the other boy and resolved to be charming and prove that he was just as 'cool' as Robin's new friends.

Robin's eyes lit up when he saw him, smiling all over his face. "This," he flung an arm around Vlad's shoulders, the movement revealing how much he's had to drink as he swayed unsteadily on his feet, "is Vlad. He's my friend from home."

"Darren," the tall boy he was being introduced to pointed at himself, then at the blond next to him, "this is Steve. And," he gestured at the dark-haired girl making her way down the staircase across the room, "you already know Carys."

Vlad glowered. He'd seen enough of Carys to last him a lifetime. And, considering he was going to live forever, he figured that said something important. Carys seemed as oblivious to it as she always was, sidling up to Robin, and making him remove the arm from his shoulders to place it around her waist.

They moved away from the bar for the sofas in the corner; Vlad uncertain if he was happy or not when Robin fell into the seat next to him, the heat of his thigh pressed close against him filling Vlad's head with inappropriate thoughts.

"I _love_  this song!" Carys jumped to her feet. Vlad frowned, how could she even tell that the track had changed? The _noise_  sounded exactly the same as it had five minutes ago. "Come on Robin." She pulled at Robin's arm without luck; Robin shook his head and collapsed back against Vlad's side.

"Fine," she shook her head and grabbed the other two instead, dragging them towards the dance floor. Once they were gone Robin shifted clumsily, squirming and wriggling in a way that made Vlad sure he wasn't going to get through the night without embarrassing himself.

"You're comfy, Vlad."

"Am I?"

Robin nodded seriously, resting his head against Vlad's shoulder. "Yeah. And you smell nice." He sat back slightly and raised one hand, touching his fingers to Vlad's cheek, "Makes me miss you."

Two boys sat opposite them, shooting them such a filthy look Vlad pushed Robin back to put space between them. Robin gave him a baleful look and Vlad shook his head,

"You should have thought of that  _before_ , shouldn't you?"

 

* * *

 

" **Feeling black** **when I think about all of the things that I feel I lack."**  
  
"You cannot be serious?"

"What?" Ian asked his sister, looking confused.

"I'm just saying, if you want her to go out with you.  _Don't_  give her that."

"Bruv, I think you should definitely give it to her," Paul grinned lecherously.

"You don't think it's too, I dunno, tarty?" Ian held up the underwear in question.

Paul shook his head, "It says: I think you're fit enough to do it justice. She'll be well chuffed."

Chloe pulled a face, " _How_  romantic."

Ignoring her Paul turned his attention to Vlad, "So come on then. Who's the lucky lad-" Paul frowned, searching for the masculine equivalent before giving up and settling on, "boy? Who 'ave you got lined up this year? I hear Freakboy's on the market again," Paul sniggered.

"No-one," Vlad looked at his hands. "Valentine's Day sucks."

Paul nudged his brother, "Only if you spend enough money."

The twins high-fived and Chloe grimaced in disgust. Vlad just let their conversation wash over him and allowed his mind to wander, back to a Valentine's Day that  _hadn't_ sucked.

He rested his elbows on the table, propping his chin up with his hands. He still had that card in a box under his bed, along with everything else Robin had ever given him – from the pile of notes he had passed him during endlessly boring English lessons to the 'sorry for your loss' card he'd left propped up against the new coffin (which he'd yet to actually use) on his sixteenth birthday.

Back then he'd never have thought Robin would have got  _bored_  of him before he'd even worn out his first shroud. Ingrid said that if were a real vampire he'd have forced Robin to stay at his side and ripped Carys' throat out. It did have a certain appeal.

He sighed again, oblivious to the close scrutiny of the Branaghs. Who was he kidding?

He'd never be a  _real_  vampire.

* * *

" **Feeling jaded when it's not gone right, all the colours are faded."**  
  
"Vlad?"

"Hi," Vlad said lamely, feeling stupid and foolish for turning up at Robin's door unannounced. Robin stared at him wide-eyed for a moment longer before standing back and ushering him inside.

Vlad felt his head spin as Robin shut the door behind him, his scent flooding his senses. He took an unnecessary breath and accepted Robin's offer to sit down, sinking gratefully onto Robin's unmade bed. There were clothes and paper strewn everywhere and Marvin, the anatomical skeleton Robin had blown his first term's maintenance loan on, was draped across the only chair.

"Sorry about the mess," Robin made an attempt to gather it into one pile, "Nobody really comes round, you know? Do you want a drink or something? Or, you could always bite me if you wanted." Taking in Vlad's expression the grin slid from Robin's face and he sat next to him, so close Vlad could feel the heat radiating off him. Robin looked at him with worried eyes, "Is everything okay, Vlad? You don't look well. I mean, you never look well, but you're looking really really unwell. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing -"

"I get it," Vlad said, cutting Robin's babbling off. He could do this.

"Look, Robin, I know I said I was okay with  _this_ ," he gestured at them both, not knowing how to put their messy relationship as not quite just friends but nowhere near anything else into words, "but," he sighed, "I'm not."

Robin was silent and Vlad ploughed on, suddenly desperate to get the words out, "I  _love_  you Robin. I've never wanted anyone else.  _Never_. And," he faltered, "I can't  _just_  be friends with you. I've tried and it doesn't work."

"What are you trying to say, Vlad?"

Vlad met Robin's gaze steadily, determined to stand his ground, "I don't think we should see each other anymore. At all."

 

* * *

 

"Aren't you ever going to leave the castle again?" Ingrid pulled a face, "Or wash? You're making me feel sick."

Vlad didn't answer, curling up on the sofa and staring unseeingly at the fourth replacement television they'd had in as many months. His dad seemed curiously incapable of not destroying them.

"All this over Branagh," Ingrid shook her head and swept to her feet, "the mind boggles."

The door to the crypt slammed shut and Vlad dared to hope he might be left alone to wallow in self-pity in peace, when there was a knock at the door. He kept still in the hope that either Renfield would answer it, or whoever it was would give up and go away.

No such luck.

The knocking got more and more insistent, until he was forced to get up and answer it himself.

"Don't slam the door!" Robin pushed his way past into the hallway the instant the door was open, "If I have to climb that tower again it'll probably kill me."

The joke fell flat and Vlad just stared at him, waiting for Robin to tell him what he wanted so he could say no and send him on his way. Instead Robin stepped closer and Vlad noticed, for the first time, he was carrying a bunch of cellophane wrapped flowers.

Robin followed Vlad's gaze and said, "Yeah, I know, it's a bit late. But," he held his hand out, "Happy Valentine's Day." Vlad made no attempt to take them from him.

"Vlad, please say something. Anything."

"Why are you here?"

"Because you're my best friend." Robin gnawed at his lip nervously, "Because I miss you."

Vlad looked at the other boy incredulously. He didn't bother to so much as call him for two months then turned up on his doorstep with flowers to tell him he  _missed_  him.

"My mam said you needed cheering up. Look, Vlad, I didn't mean for everything to end up like this."

"Well that's alright then," Vlad snapped, feeling his temper rising. Robin hadn't  _meant_  to rip his heart out, so what right did he have to be upset about it.

"I didn't mean it like that." Robin just stared at him for a long moment before putting the flowers down on the sideboard. "You know where I am if you want me."

Vlad leaned back against the shut door for a long time after Robin left, thinking of the thousands of better ways he could have handled the meeting. Eventually he gave up. Ingrid was right; he really needed to pull himself together.

 

* * *

 

Later that week Vlad had another problem on his hands. It was Robin's birthday and, for reasons Vlad was certain he couldn't fathom, he was invited.

"Why don't you take your cousin Drusilla?" The Count suggested, taking in Vlad's maudlin expression.

Vlad pulled a face, " _Because_  she's my cousin."

"But," the Count smirked and touched a hand to his shoulder, "the peasants won't know that."

"You've snogged that primordial pustule, Branagh," Ingrid said, carefully painting her fingernails a blood red, "I don't see how snogging your cousin could be much worse."

Ignoring her, Vlad said, "Everyone knows I don't like girls; Robin will never fall for it." Peering through the gap in the shutters he went on, "I need to take somebody who will make Robin jealous, realise what he's missing out on."

Ingrid scoffed, but didn't say anything. The Count snapped his fingers and opened his mouth to speak, but Vlad cut him off,

"And  _won't_  suck all my best friends dry the second my back is turned."

The Count pulled a face, but lowered his hand in defeat.

"Face it, Vlad," Ingrid smirked up at him, "You're a loser, and Branagh knows it. Just accept it. You'll feel much better."

Vlad scowled. He was going to go to Robin's birthday party with a hot date, and Robin was going to be jealous. And, that was the end of it.

 

* * *

 

Of course it didn't work out like that at all. It was the story of his unlife. Instead Vlad found himself sat with the twins and stabbing at the plate of food Mrs. Branagh had put in front of him.

"Sounds like the ABS 'ave gone, bruv."

"Aw, what!? I can't afford that."

"Might not be." Ian shrugged, "Check the reluctor rings on the outer CV joint."

Vlad gave up trying to understand what the twins were talking about and went back to staring at Robin. The other boy still hadn't made any attempt to speak to him; was instead flanked on every side by his stupid _art_  friends. Not that it stopped them staring over in his direction every few minutes and tittering, no doubt having a good laugh about how much of a loser he was.

If  _anyone_  else asked him if he was, in fact, all on his own he had a good mind to follow Ingrid's example and scream.

It didn't help that, in spite of everyone's assurances to the contrary; it still looked  _very_  much like Carys and Robin were as joined at the hip as they'd ever been. What could she offer Robin that he couldn't? Aside from being distinctly female, alive, and non-combustible? He scowled at her and wished, just for a moment, that looks could kill.

By the time Robin finally broke through of her grasp, and started towards him, he felt like he had easily eaten his own body weight in the sympathy laden slabs of cake Mrs. Branagh kept placing in front of him. The twins having gone outside to look at the reluctant thingies on the inner whatsit, Robin slid into the seat opposite him, glancing back over at his other friends as he did so.

"Thanks for coming, Vlad. I didn't think you would."

"Why?" Vlad asked, temper fraying, "Hoping I'd make your life easier, were you?"

Robin frowned, "No. I really wanted you here, more than anything."

Vlad looked away and reminded himself of all the reasons why that was obviously a lie. Robin was quiet for a long moment, before reaching a hand across the table and clasping his own,

"Can we talk, Vlad? Properly?"

 

* * *

 

" **Nobody told me it'd feel so good; Nobody said you'd be so beautiful; Nobody warned me about your smile. … You're the light when I close my eyes. … You make me colourblind."**  
  
"I was so scared you'd bring some super hot vampire with you."

Vlad said nothing, leaning his head back against Robin's bedroom wall. He knew he should have tried harder to find someone.

Robin fidgeted nervously, "I know it's what I deserve, but I couldn't bear it, Vlad."

"What about Carys?" Vlad asked, tone spiteful. Robin looked upset and Vlad felt it served him right.

"What about her?" Robin took in his expression and sighed, "I told you, we split up. Ages ago. I don't lie to you, Vlad." At Vlad's raised eyebrow he amended, "Okay, except for the times when I 'ave lied to you. But I wouldn't do it about something like this. I promise."

Vlad wrenched his gaze away, not wanting to admit that even if Robin were lying to him he'd still forgive him it. "What do you want, Robin? You've already said sorry."

"For you to accept it?" Downstairs the twins had taken over the hi-fi system, the pulse of the bass rattling up the wall, so Vlad would have missed Robin's next words if he were human.

"I was so stupid, Vlad."

At least, Vlad thought – fully aware that were his heart capable of beating it would be pounding in his chest – they agreed on something.

"I thought I was too young to get serious with you. But I was wrong. I wasn't lying, I've missed you. Really missed you." Robin had pressed closer, his anxious gaze sending thrills through Vlad. "If you give me another chance, I won't mess it up, Vlad."

"You don't know that."

Robin looked away and Vlad felt justified in dragging it out for a long moment, wanting Robin to understand just how miserable he'd been. Finally he pressed his fingers to Robin's cheek, for once not worrying the coolness of his skin would repulse the other boy, and tilted his head back to face him,

"But I'm willing to take the risk."

"I do love you," Robin said seriously.

Vlad smiled back at him, uncaring of how gormless he had to look, and pulled him closer still,

"I love you too. Just  _try_  not to do something so stupid again, yeah?"

Robin just shook his head and kissed him. Soundly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	64. Gen, election fever.

"We don't want any of  _their_  kind around here," Mr. Branagh was saying, "nothing but blood suckers they are, the lot of them."

" _Graham_ ," Mrs. Branagh scolded, "Just because they're a little… different to you, it doesn't make them bad people."

"His dad's one," Robin pointed out. Mr. Branagh's expression soured still further.

"Come on, Vlad," Robin sighed, scrunching up the pamphlet that had started it. "Let's get out of here."

"Don't worry, love," Mrs. Branagh soothed, laying a hand on her husband's arm. Mr. Branagh raised a questioning eyebrow and she smiled,

"Mr. Count's not even eligible to vote!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	65. Ingrid, written for the femgenficathon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Femgenficathon prompt #161 'I want to be remembered as the person who helped us restore faith in ourselves' - Wilma Mankiller (1945-2010).

"And where were you this morning?"

Ingrid looked around, eyes wide with the innocent look she had once spent weeks perfecting back at Castle Dracula. One never knew when it might come in useful.

"Me?" She asked eventually, when it would have ruined the show to drag it out any longer.

Old Griffiths looked like he was on the verge of an aneurysm, the colour in his face rising swiftly. "Yes,  _you_."

Ingrid slouched back in her seat, inspecting her fingernails. "That's for me to know, and you to ask questions about. What I will say," she smiled sweetly, "is that I wasn't in this dump."

The room erupted in muffled giggles and Griffiths clenched one hand around the back of his chair. She bet he was imagining wrapping it around her throat.

"You're on thin ice, you know that? If you don't want to be here," he started, low and threatening, "you know where the door is."

She leaned forward deliberately, as if to get a better view of it around the boy sat next to her. Then she stood, enjoying the way every eye in the room was trained on her.

"I do, thanks."

Griffiths breathed heavily through his nose and she paused in the doorway, looking pointedly at her desk. "Branagh," she clicked her fingers, watching as the pair of them lumbered out of their seats, "my bag."

It was all just too easy.

 

* * *

 

"So what acts of destruction did you get up to today?" The Count asked that evening, gaze fond as he watched Vlad chew at the end of his pen, brow furrowed in concentration.

"I was thrown out of my maths lesson, given detention for pouring paint over an art display, and," Ingrid smirked proudly, "I blocked all the sinks in the girls' bathroom."

"Ingrid," the Count said silkily, "if I cared what you got up to I wouldn't keep leaving flesh burrowing zombie ants in your coffin, would I?"

So that's where they were coming from.

"Now, Vlad," the Count went on, "my son and heir, apple of my eye, light of my unlife. What did  _you_  do today?"

"I –" Vlad started, keeping his gaze lowered.

"He forgot his [games](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5376537/94/Drabbles) kit and got told off for talking," Robin answered for him.

"Hmmm," the Count frowned. "Improvement."

 

* * *

 

"You're such a little daddy's bat," Ingrid hissed later still, when the Count had flapped through the open window into the night air.

"I didn't ask to be," Vlad told her indignantly. "It's not my fault he likes me better."

"I'd prefer you," Robin added solemnly, gazing up at her with adoring eyes.

Ingrid scowled, "Do you have any idea how repulsive that sounds?"

Robin just stared at her blankly.

"Shouldn't you be going home about now anyway, Branagh? The sight of you is making me feel sick."

Robin looked away for a moment, obviously hurt, and she grinned in triumph, not even bothering to school it into impassivity when Robin stood and told Vlad he'd see him tomorrow.

"What did you say that for!" Vlad rounded on her the instant the peasant left, eyes bright and cheeks flushed with anger. It was about as terrifying as a terrier snapping at her ankles.

"Because," Ingrid said slowly, over enunciating the words, "the sight of him was making me feel sick."

"It's no wonder you don't have any friends!" Vlad snapped.

"I have loads of friends," Ingrid protested. She couldn't go anywhere without people flocking around her, wanting to be close to her.

Vlad snatched up his books from the table, glaring at his sister,

"They are  _not_  your friends."

 

* * *

 

Vlad's words played on her mind the next day, while she was sat under the deputy headmistress' beady eye. Detention was always so boring.

What were friends anyway? People who liked you, people who would do anything for you. Anyone could do that, and most of them she didn't even need to hypnotise.

Vlad was wrong, and she was going to prove it.

 

* * *

 

"I'm having a party," she said conversationally at afternoon registration, ignoring Griffiths' attempts to instill order. "Tonight, at seven."

What better way to prove how many friends you had?

"Where to?" Cecily asked eagerly, admiring gaze fixed on her. She was quickly joined by the rest of the class. Ingrid smiled,

"Your house."

"M-my house?" Cecily stuttered, face pale beneath her uneven foundation. Ingrid could have told her that so wasn't her shade. She hadn't though, why encourage competition?

"Yes, that's right. Your house."

 

* * *

 

"Ingrid," Cecily started as they made their way to the art room, "we can't go to my house. My parents will kill me."

"And," Ingrid swatted Paul across the head as he slowed down, causing her backpack to bump against her knees as she walked. She could always find someone else to carry her stuff. "That's my problem, why?"

"I thought we were friends," Cecily said then, accusing.

"We are," Ingrid frowned. "I am bestowing so much cool on you by choosing your place. You should be thanking me."

Emotions flitted across the other girls face, and Ingrid couldn't help but sneer disdainfully. Expressiveness was not something to be valued. It made her think of Branagh.

"If you were really my friend, you'd call this off."

Susie nodded at Cecily's right shoulder, Ashleigh remained impassive. Ingrid knew there was a reason why her company was marginally more tolerable.

"If you were my friend," Ingrid countered, "you wouldn't be complaining."

They stared each other down for one beat, two, before Cecily walked away, eyes overly bright, Susie following. Everyone else turned to look at her, collectively holding their breath as they waited for her reaction. Ingrid turned stiffly, motioning for Ashleigh, and the two girls who had been trying to get her attention for weeks.

"We'll hold it at yours," she said to the first, who squeaked gratifyingly in agreement.

Ingrid slid into her seat and steadfastly refused to turn around.

She was Countess Dracula.

She didn't  _need_  friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	66. Robin / Vlad, all over now.

It wasn't until Vlad went away that Robin truly realised how reliant he had become upon him. He no longer had a partner for games, and he quickly remembered how awful it was to have nobody to sit next to during lessons. When he tried to build bridges the others ignored him and, when the teachers' backs were turned, the popular kids thought nothing of laughing and shoving him in the corridors.

He comforted himself with the thought that Vlad must be missing him too, and waited impatiently for the letter to come through with Vlad's new address, or even better a phone number so he could hear the sound of Vlad's voice.

It never came, not even as weeks turned into months, and when he didn't have to be at school he locked himself in his room, because he couldn't bear to face anyone and see their pity, not even his own family.

One day he came home and wasn't given a choice, sat silent as their father gathered them all in the kitchen. His expression was grim, strained, and Robin's stomach churned when the realisation dawned that his dad, the man who stubbornly saw the sunny side of everything, was crying.

Their mother smiled, albeit wanly, and Robin didn't know what to do, or how to feel, when she told them quietly that the doctors had found it now, and that meant they would be able to start getting rid of it.

The twins threw themselves into their rugby training, and Chloe dealt with it by burying her head in her schoolwork. Robin supposed he wasn't coping with it at all, and gave up on everything, even his sketchbook, because it felt like so much effort when he could just sit and stare listlessly out of the window.

It got worse, instead of better, and though his mother laughed when she took the wig out of its box and said that she'd always wanted to try going brunette, Robin couldn't summon up a smile, and couldn't believe her, though he wanted to, when she sat beside him and said,

"Don't worry, Robin. Everything's going to be alright. I know it will."

It wasn't long after that that they made him go and see Mina Van Helsing, staring awkwardly at his feet as she tried to coax something that wasn't monosyballic out of him.

"Is there a friend you can talk to?" she asked, eventually, and Robin thought of Vlad. Of sleepovers, and laughter, and Vlad smiling at him as he said that they would be best friends forever. Aloud he said,

"No," and shook his head, finishing with, "there isn't anyone."

He got to see her, before the end, and she took his hand, and tried to smile, and said,

"Whatever you choose to do, I'll be proud of you. So long as you're happy, Robin."

The twins had each other at the service, and Chloe sobbed, clinging to their father. Robin sat on his own and refused to cry, though it felt like something was broken inside, and afterwards he lay on his bed for hours, wishing that he wasn't him, and that he just wasn't aware of what was happening.

Vlad did come back, eventually, looking almost exactly the same as he remembered though he more demanded than asked, and there was some girl Robin didn't recognise with him, who, he thought despondently, must have been his replacement.

"You have to help me," Vlad pleaded, and Robin just took a breath, knowing that he was letting her down, knowing that it wouldn't make him any happier, but met Vlad's eye all the same and said,

"There's no such thing as vampires."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	67. Vlad / Bertrand, pre-slash.

Ingrid obviously knew enough to keep her thoughts hidden. The Count only ever revealed what he wanted to be seen. Renfield, frankly, wasn't worth reading.

Erin's thoughts were a mess, tumultuous emotion that blurred one into another, no different to the multitudes of breathers wandering the building. The control would come in time, he knew, though still he kept an eye on her, watched her day by day, waiting for some sign of it.

She wasn't why he was there though, and it served as nothing more than a diversion. He had trained and trained and trained, and waited and waited and waited. He had been unborn to serve, to perform his duty, and Vlad was his only concern. His pupil, his master,  _the_   _Chosen_ _One_.

It surprised him, though he supposed it shouldn't, how unguarded Vlad's thoughts could be. Vlad didn't know how to project them, not yet, and they were all but impossible to breach, even without any training. But the thoughts which slipped through were often intimate, private, the kind of thing no vampire would share lest it leave them vulnerable.

Bertrand kept it to himself, the things he saw, as he didn't want Vlad to feel uncomfortable. Vlad needed to trust him, to learn from him, and it could only help if he knew whether Vlad was feeling upset, or lonely, or frustrated.

At least that's what he told himself.

Because it wasn't his place, to feel vanity. It wasn't his place to feel the spark of  _something_  in his chest every time Vlad thought of him. To stare at the underside of his coffin lid and feel Vlad trying to figure him out, like he was important in his own right, not just a stepping stone in Vlad's journey.

And, so, he reasoned when he handed Vlad the tarot cards for yet another telepathy training session, it couldn't hurt if he were to keep silent for just a little longer.

Could it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	68. Robin / Vlad, more Christmas sap.

"What do you think?" Vlad asked proudly, standing back to admire his handiwork. Robin stared at the browning tree and strings of threadbare tinsel and bit at his lip, trying not to laugh out loud.

"Very, er, festive," he managed, unable to hold back a snigger he was forced to hide with a pretend coughing fit. Vlad narrowed his eyes and sulked,

" _You_  couldn't understand."

Robin felt a sting of guilt, remembering the look of wide eyed joy on Vlad's face the year before when his Mam switched the lights of the newly decorated Christmas tree on.

"We've never celebrated it," Vlad went on, tone maudlin. As if on cue the Count appeared in the doorway of the crypt, doing a double take at the sight of Vlad's pathetic attempt at seasonal interior design. With a casual flick of the wrist the tree caught on fire, the cheap plastic baubles melting as Vlad's face fell.

The Count beamed, "Ah, much better." Vlad stormed from the room, the sound of his bedroom door slamming reverberating through the castle. "What's wrong with him?" The Count asked in obvious confusion.

Robin shrugged lightly and looked at what was left of the tree thoughtfully. He had an idea.

* * *

"Nice look," Ingrid sneered as Vlad let himself in, rain sodden clothing clinging to him, hair plastered to his face. He sneered back,

"Shut up."

Ingrid went back to her magazine, unconcerned. "Branagh's in your room, by the way," she said as he made his way towards the stairs. He looked back at her in confusion and she grinned, "The element of surprise, Vlad. He won't be able to run fast enough."

Vlad just glowered.

He hesitated outside his own bedroom door, raking his fingers through his hair and patting down his shirt in an attempt to look calm and collected. In truth he was anything but; heart thumping quickly in his chest as he imagined Robin lounging across his bed.

Satisfied he'd done all he could Vlad pushed the door open softly, jaw dropping at the sight that met him. Robin glanced at him over his shoulder and smiled widely; securing the end of the tinsel in his hand before clambering down from the chair he was standing on.

"Robin," Vlad started, gaze lingering on the tree and the twinkling fairy lights, "it's beautiful."

The other boy blushed, obviously pleased with himself. "We had loads of spare stuff; Dad wouldn't let Mam 'ave more than three trees this year," he gestured at the artificial tree behind him. "And," Robin gave Vlad a lopsided grin, "I wanted to see that look on your face."

Vlad smiled back, pushing the door shut and moving to stand at Robin's side. To slide his hands around his waist and pull him closer. "I take back everything I say about you," he looked around him again before meeting Robin's dark gaze, "this is amazing."

"What can I say?" Robin gloated smugly, but his expression was soft and pleased. Vlad pressed their lips together briefly and took Robin's hand, pulling him to sit next to him on the edge of the bed, facing the tree. Their thighs were pressed tight together and Vlad put an arm around Robin, leaning his head against the taller boy's shoulder happily.

"You know what this means though?" He asked eventually, tone glum enough for Robin to look at him sharply. Vlad groaned,

"I'm going to have to put even  _more_  effort into finding you a Christmas present."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	69. Robin / Vlad, 'under the influence'.

"Robin!" Vlad hissed in reproach, "Don't  _touch_  anything!"

He shook his head as Robin reluctantly screwed the lid of the jar back on. The place even smelt dangerous, the air thick and musty. He turned round to encourage Robin along – it was not somewhere he wanted to hang about in for long – only for the other boy to fix him with a weirdly intense look, refusing to budge.

"Vlad," Robin's voice was deeper than usual, and it raised shivery goosebumps all across his skin, "I feel strange."

And _that_  was all the warning he got. One minute he was having a perfectly civil conversation, the next, he was on his back, Robin pinning him down and attempting to extract his tonsils with nothing but his tongue. He tried to protest, but Robin misinterpreted it and just attacked him with increased vigour.

When Robin let him breathe he gasped in harsh lungfuls, heart pounding in his chest as Robin moved to suck at his neck instead, lavishing attention on it until Vlad was certain there would be dark bruises tomorrow for all to see.

He groaned then, the thought of necks and bruises and the feel of Robin rocking into his thigh proving a heady mixture. The part of him that was more a fan of instinct than reason – deeply buried thought it was - had him flipping their positions, grinning in triumph when he had Robin, flushed and panting, beneath him.

This time he got to be in control, pushing one hand into Robin's hair and stroking his thumb against his fevered forehead, kissing and kissing and _kissing_ until they had to break apart for air once more. He latched on to the pale skin of Robin's throat, the primal urge to bite and feed so strong it was almost a physical ache.

Robin arched his head back, giving him better access, and made a desperate sound somewhere between whining and groaning. Vlad sucked harder in response, hands holding Robin's hips in place as he ground against him. Robin writhed and curled possessive fingers in his hair and the fabric of his shirt, finally tensing and moaning his name as he came against him.

The flutter of his heartbeat pulsing against his tongue through the fragile skin of his neck, accompanied with the knowledge that he had just made Robin lose control, sent him over the edge. He slumped on top of Robin, fighting for both breath and composure and, when he looked up; Robin's expression was half terrified.

He shifted, angling his head so he could kiss Robin, soft and careful like he'd spent hours planning out in his head. Robin, after a moment of fear inducing stillness, kissed him back tenderly, one palm coming to rest lightly along the curve of his jaw.

Robin pocketed the jar before they left, favouring Vlad's accusatory glare with a "What?" grinning lecherously and destroying any resolve he might have had on the issue. "Never know when it might come in useful."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	70. Series 3 gen.

"Ugh!" Ingrid grimaced, spitting a half chewed chocolate into her hand. "Coffee borer!"

Vlad pulled a face of his own, watching as she proceeded to feed it to his half brother. "I wish you wouldn't do that," he said. "It's not good for him."

"He loves it," Ingrid countered, grinning, though whether it was at Wolfie's enthusiasm or the thought of the chocolate killing him, Vlad wouldn't like to venture. She scratched behind his ears, "Don't you, Wolfie?"

Wolfie wagged his tail and yapped in agreement.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" Ingrid asked, settling back into her wheelchair. "Haven't you got anything else you could be doing? Running around the courtyard without an umbrella perhaps?"

"Haha," Vlad muttered, turning his back on her and trying to concentrate on the book Bertrand had left him with. The problem was that the script was small and cramped and squiggly, and the subject matter was mind numbing. Telepathy, telepathy, and more telepathy.

He was never going to get the hang of it, no matter how frequently Bertrand seemed determined to test him on it. For someone who claimed he had spent his unlife waiting to serve him, well, Bertrand wasn't exactly very accommodating.

Bertrand chose that moment to check up on him, Vlad sensing the movement of the air though the other vampire's tread was silent. Ingrid made his careful analysis completely unnecessary with,

"At last! I'm stuck in this chair, the least you can do is take him somewhere where I don't have to look at him."

"Why do I have to move?" Vlad shot back, unable to help himself. Bertrand gave him what he had rapidly come to think of as the pitying look. The look which said he should be able to conduct himself like a vampire ruler, and not a spoiled teenager.

"Because," Ingrid sighed, like she was stating the obvious, "you're ugly."

"It is time for your training session," Bertrand said, calmly, before Vlad had chance to be drawn into an argument.

Ingrid waved at them on their way out of the room, smirking. "Have fun,  _Bertrand_."

"She doesn't mean it," Vlad said as they made their way down the darkened corridor. "It's just her way of being affectionate."

Bertrand met his gaze then and Vlad felt like he was getting somewhere, because Bertrand had hung about when Magda had given him his marching order. Like he was just waiting for the right moment to help him, like the older vampire was going to be his friend and not just his disapproving tutor, another vampire intent on telling him what to do and moulding him into something which, half the time, he wasn't all that sure he wanted to be anyway.

And, then, the moment was gone and Bertrand was striding forward with purpose,

"Vlad, you know it isn't proper for a vampire to be affectionate."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	71. Vlad / Bertrand, playing by the rules.

"I thought vampires didn't play by the rules," Vlad said, clearly exasperated by his lack of progress.

Bertrand didn't know how best to respond. Being a vampire, in his experience had meant adhering to the edicts of the Council, and obeying the instructions of the Grand High Vampire. Doing what he was told and learning not to ask too many questions. Observing the unwritten rules of etiquette and endeavouring to stay on the right side of the argument.

In short, his  _unlife_ , had been all about following rules. About doing what was expected.

Fulfilling his destiny.

Aloud he said simply,

"To every rule there is an exception."

It played on his mind however, even as he sat cross legged across from Vlad, watching the array of emotion on Vlad's face as he attempted to levitate them both into the air. As he smiled at him in congratulations when the task was accomplished.

Because, this familiarity was not entirely proper, had never been anything he had allowed with those who had come before. The imposters.

Few of them had ever sought more from him than information, power. Where their conversation had dug, searching, Vlad's meandered, aimlessly, and one night, when Vlad sought out his advice in front of his family Ingrid raised an eyebrow, so that Bertrand could be left in no doubt as to whether or not she understood his situation.

Because, it was not right for him to presume so, and when Vlad failed to admonish him to further encourage it. To behave as though Vlad were his friend rather than his master, and to read anything into the errant thoughts Vlad was yet too unskilled to keep from him. The confusion, and the frustration, and beneath it all the loneliness that coiled around him until there were times he could not be certain where his own thoughts ended and Vlad's began.

He watched Vlad closely when they trained together, to try and catch a flash of recognition. To see reflected on Vlad's face the thoughts that plagued his mind. Some hint of the turmoil he felt night and day, of the painful wanting. Eventually he attempted to stop himself looking because he saw nothing, at least nothing conclusive.

If it were not Vlad, then it had to be himself, and he swore on all that he had ever held dear that he would never act on it, and sat on the cold floor of the room he had been ascribed to, taking far longer than he ought to find the composure needed to meditate.

For a time, he even thought it would be that simple.

But Magda saw through him still faster than her daughter, and he failed to keep his expression neutral when she told him to leave, her eyes boring into him, accusing. Threatening.

Vlad followed him, even after he had explained the reality of his position, and Bertrand touched his arm, wanting to be comforting though it could never be his place, and said,

"I am sorry, Vlad, but I am bound by the rules. You know that."

Vlad looked first to his hand, where it lay against his shirt sleeve, and then to his face, the atmosphere around them growing thicker and thicker. Bertrand waited, silent, and then Vlad turned away suddenly, the moment broken, though his voice was low and his tone determined,

"Sometimes, rules are only made to be broken."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	72. Robin / Vlad, set of drabbles written for 7snogs.

**Soft:**

"You're soft in the head, you are," Robin told him, shaking his head. "If I could hypnotise people I'd make all the girls fancy me!"

Vlad shrugged, carefully keeping his eyes on his lunch. "I don't really like any of them." He looked up in time to catch Delila glaring daggers in his direction and he cringed. "And they definitely don't like me. What would I do when it wore off?"

Robin followed his gaze, grinning and winking at Delila who sneered and turned away. "That don't matter." He gave Vlad a pointed look, "You'll already 'ave snogged them then!"

* * *

**Jealousy:**

"Can you stop saying that!?" Vlad demanded, halting sharply in the middle of the corridor to glare at Robin. "You did not snog Ingrid!"

"But," Robin protested, "I did." Robin shot him a crooked grin, leaning casually against the wall in a way Vlad supposed was calculated to annoy him more, "There was  _definitely_  tongue action."

Vlad threw his hands up in frustration, just resisting the urge to throttle Robin. "Well, I don't want to keep hearing about it."

"You're just jealous."

"What?" Vlad scoffed. "That you kissed my  _sister_?"

"No," Robin shook his head smugly, "That she kissed  _me_."

* * *

**Uniform:**

Vlad blanched, skin clammy as the bottom dropped out of his stomach. His denial stuck in his throat, the words barely audible. "I don't fancy you."

"Don't be stupid, Vlad," Robin told him, hauling his backpack higher onto his shoulder and straightening out his coat sleeve, " _Everyone_  fancies me."

When there was no answer Robin turned his full attention on him, dark eyes concerned as they took in his chalk white visage. "I was only joking. I know you don't want to snog me." He laughed, the sound harsh as it echoed off around the empty hallway.

Vlad stayed silent.

* * *

**Embrace:**

The silence was becoming oppressive, Vlad keeping his gaze on anything but Robin, eventually fixing on the sketched bats adorning Robin's bedroom walls.

"I didn't know," Robin said finally, soft and quiet. "Honest. I wouldn't 'ave joked about it if I had."

Vlad swallowed thickly, gathering up all his courage to look Robin in the face. "Are you mad at me?"

"For fancying me?" Robin frowned. "You can't help that." Vlad looked away, expression miserable, and Robin touched a hand to his arm, pulling him into a hug.

"It's okay, Vlad, really. You're always going to be my best mate."

* * *

**Rumour:**  
  
"Branagh!" Price called, moving smoothly to stop Robin stepping around him. "What's all this I hear about you and Count?" Davis snickered and Robin glared at them both,

" _What_  are you talking about?"

"Always knew there was something weird about you," Price sneered, looking him up and down in distaste.

Davis nodded, "Count must be proper desperate if he's snogging you."

"Whatever you've heard," Robin shook his head, "you've heard wrong. Me an' Vlad, it's not like that."

"Calling me a liar?" Price hissed, low and threatening, and Robin took an instinctive step back. "You want to watch your back."

* * *

**Argument:**

"It's not my fault!" Vlad declared, getting to his feet to pace the space between his bed and the window.

"Well, it's not mine, is it!?" Robin spat back. "You must 'ave told someone."

Vlad gave him an incredulous look, exasperation getting the better of him. "What is there to tell!? I like you and you're not interested." He shook his head, tone dripping sarcasm, "I brag about that to everyone!"

Robin shifted uncomfortably at that and Vlad sighed. "Sorry, but you  _were_  out of order."

"Yeah," Robin said, sitting heavily on the bed, expression for once inscrutable, "I know."

* * *

**Sunset:**

"I won't be able to see this for much longer," Vlad said mournfully, watching the last rays of evening sunshine disappear.

"You could watch it on TV," Robin suggested, crossing the room to stand at his side.

Vlad shook his head, "It wouldn't be the same."

"I've been thinking," Robin started, fidgeting uncharacteristically, "you should start doing stuff, you know, all the things you won't be able to do when you're a vampire."

"Like what?" Vlad asked curiously, noting Robin's nervousness.

"Like," Robin leaned closer, Vlad's heart threatening to stop three months early, until their lips were almost touching, " _this_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	73. Ingrid / Will.

School, again. At her age. Ingrid scowled and threw the first thing her hand closed around at the far wall in temper. She glanced over the lip of her coffin to see it was the remains of the Duchess of Cambridge, '37. Typical.

She dropped her head back into her pillows and clawed her fingernails into her coffin lining, wishing she knew a better way to work off excess anger. During the hours of daylight.

Vlad was busy making calf eyes at the half fang, because he always had had a thing for breathers with no sense of fashion. He wouldd regret believing Bertrand over her whenErinwas nothing but another handful in Renfield's dust pile.

Bertrand would regret ever crossing her. And her father would regret every word he had ever said to her. She'd make them all suffer, make them grovel at her feet and beg her for mercy.

She tried to picture it, the fear in their eyes, the pleas on their lips as she hammered home the stake, but all she saw was Will. Will's smile, and Will's hand in hers. She clutched at the locket around her neck, at all that was left of him, and slammed shut her coffin lid, squeezing her eyes shut in the darkness.

Later, she denied it. Refused to admit it even to herself. Ignored the splashes of inky black across her pillow cases, and the way her eyes stung.

She couldn't have been crying. Vampires didn't have feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	74. Robin / Vlad - first YD fic I wrote :)

Ian laughed. Paul laughed harder.

" _You_ ," Chloe paused to shake her head in disbelief, "have a date?"

Vlad shifted awkwardly at the hurt look Robin couldn't quite keep off his face.

"Chloe! Your brother is… mysterious." Mrs. Branagh smiled in triumph at her choice. "Girls like that."

A flush stole up Robin's neck; nobody noticed but Vlad, who always watched closer than he should.

Paul scoffed, "like the weirdo goth child is interested in girls."

"It's not a girl," Ian clarified in a way he clearly thought helpful.

Mr. Branagh frowned in confusion, "But you just said he had a date."

"He does," Paul confirmed.

Vlad rubbed his suddenly sweaty palms against his jeans.

"He's stood in front of you," Ian howled with laughter. Paul doubled over, tears falling freely as he pointed at Vlad.

Chloe gaped.

Mr. Branagh stuttered and ahhed before falling silent.

Mrs. Branagh managed an "Oh." around her shock.

Vlad felt sick.

And then, finally, Robin spoke.

"I dunno what's so funny. I'm a great catch."

Later, thighs touching as they sat on a bench in the corner of the hall, Stokely Grammar's annual Valentine's dance in full swing around them, Vlad couldn't help but agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	75. Robin / Vlad, darkfest fic: 'we don't want the same things'. (Warning - self harm.)

"Nah," Paul shook his head, clambering back out of the enclosed space, "it ain't happening."

Darren frowned, peering into the gap, "What we need is someone lanky enough to get head and shoulders through." He eyed up Paul's broad shoulders with an air of disappointment. "Once they're in, we can push."

"Look at it!" Ian protested, "Where are we going to find someone scrawny enough to fit through there?"

Three sets of eyes simultaneously fell on the same figure. Robin swallowed. He didn't really get along well with any tight enclosed space that wasn't a coffin. Especially not one he was certain was full of spiders.

"Come on Robin," Darren wheedled, "We've got to get cracking with this job. Once the taps are off we can make a start."

"Don't be such a sissy," Paul said less kindly. "Get over 'ere an' I'll give you a leg up."

Trying to drag it out Robin stepped forward, swiping his sweaty palms against the fabric of his – Ian's castaway – tracksuit bottoms. Before he had chance to rethink it Paul had hold of one leg, Ian the other, and he was being shoved up and in. The gap was so narrow his chin was almost scraping the bottom, even as the top of his head hit against the ceiling.

It was thick with dust and grime and he could feel it smear his arms as he squirmed in further. Cobwebs brushed against his face and he clenched his eyes shut, trying not to breathe.

"Can you reach it yet?" Darren called.

Robin reached a hand out blindly, scrabbling for the tap. He'd never thought plumbing could be any worse than he had imagined. Finally his fingers found purchase and he twisted the valve, Darren calling praise.

That was when the real problems started. He tried to push with his hand against the far wall to shift backwards, but nothing happened. He felt hands wrapped around his ankles, pulling. And still nothing happened.

Panic instantly flooded through him, legs kicking futiley in an attempt to get free.

"Keep still!" Ian called, "You're going to wedge yourself tighter!"

His arms started shaking, fear overriding common sense.  _Something_  crawled across the exposed skin of his neck and he started flailing desperately, skin prickling all over as if there were thousands of spiders around him. There could be for all he knew, he thought wildly, cold sweat making his clothes stick clammily to his skin.

"Calm down!" Darren's voice sounded anxious. Robin heard him dimly over the crashing in his head. "We ain't insured for this." And, "He got in; he must be able to get back out! Pull harder!"

He could die in here, it dawned suddenly. Cramped and dark and alone. It wasn't until there was give, his shoulders aching beyond all reason as the twins wrenched at his legs, that he realised he was crying.

* * *

"Let me see," Johnson said gently, upturning a bottle of antiseptic onto a clean cloth. "That's a proper nasty cut."

Robin looked away, headache forming with the effort of fighting the urge to cry again, but held his arm out dutifully. In this stance he could see himself in the far mirror, the tear tracks streaked through the dirt on his face, the cobwebs still clinging to his hair and clothing.

"If they ask you to do something you don't want to," Johnson went on, ignoring Robin's hiss of pain as he dabbed at the wound, "You just 'ave to say no. Do it once an' they'll expect it all the time."

They were practically the same age and Robin couldn't decide if he was angry or grateful for the way Johnson was mollycoddling him. Of everyone he'd met since starting with the firm, Johnson was the only one remotely tolerable. And that, for the most part, was only because he tended to keep his mouth shut.

Ian and Paul never stopped, telling everyone about all the embarrassing things he had done as a kid and laughing when he could barely lift his tool kit from the floor.

"I was the same when I started." Johnson moved on to the next cut. "Don't think old Whitson's doing you an' your old man a favour by taking you on." He smirked, "He ain't paying us enough for that."

"I'm only here cos I 'ave to be," Robin told him bitterly, swiping one hand across his face, trying to obliterate the evidence of his crying. "I didn't choose it."

Johnson shot him a sympathetic smile before clicking his fingers and staring at him anew. "That's it! I knew I knew you from somewhere. You're friends with Vlad Count, aren't you? You used to come and watch him play rugby."

He had, it was true, gone to watch Vlad play a few times. Freezing to death in the icy Sunday morning air, all for the happy smile it had put on Vlad's face to see him there. And the opportunity to ogle at Vlad in a pair of shorts.

He'd been such a loser.

"Does he still play much?" Johnson asked.

Robin shrugged, months of pent up hurt and frustration behind the simple motion. "I doubt it."

Johnson gave him a speculative look, but didn't comment on it, working instead on packing away the first aid kit. Robin leaned over the sink, splashing his face with cold water. When he looked back up it was for Johnson to meet his gaze in the mirror,

"Remember what I said. Sometimes you just 'ave to make things easier for yourself."

* * *

He did remember it, sat alone in his bedroom, the sound of Ian and Paul laughing as they retold the tale to their parents filtering up through the floorboards. The truth was obvious. He'd waited. And waited and waited.

Nothing was going to change.

Problems had been brewing for a long time. A lot longer than he normally let himself admit. But the turning point – the real turning point – had been the day Vlad got his first fang. They had been at lunch, Vlad bemoaning Renfield's choice of sandwich filling and he hadn't been able to keep quiet about the flash of elongated incisor he'd sighted.

Vlad, instead of being excited or happy or even resigned, had gone into a full scale panic. Staying in the boys' bathroom long after the bell for registration rang, looking close to tears as he stared at it in the mirror.

He hadn't gone to school the next day, or the day after that. Robin had gotten up extra early the next – it had been a Friday, he could still remember – and went to knock for Vlad, determined not to take no for an answer.

The castle had been eerily silent, the door creaking open at his touch. There had been more than a hint of trepidation settling around his chest as he climbed the stairs, nervous tension spiking as he pushed Vlad's bedroom door open.

It had been dark and musty, as if the window hadn't been opened for days, and Vlad was still in bed although his eyes had been ringed with huge black circles.

"Are you coming?" He had asked, frowning as he took in the mess in Vlad's room. Vlad had used to be quite tidy, much tidier than he was, at any rate. "Jenkins is doing his nut that you missed that rugby match."

His best friend – and no matter what anyone had said since they had been best friends - had sneered at him, hissing in a way that hadn't been at all natural. "I don't play rugby. I'm a vampire."

"I know," he had shaken his head, "I worked it out before you did." Back then he hadn't thought twice about sitting on the edge of Vlad's bed, reaching down and scooping Mr. Cuddles from the floor and raising a questioning eyebrow at Vlad. He had grinned – no, smirked – and said, "He'll be getting lonely, Vlad."

Vlad had stared at him for a moment, eyes wide, and then he had reached for it and clutched it close, curling into the blankets, face pressed into his pillow, muffling the sound of his sobbed, "I don't want this."

He had sat uncomfortably, patting at Vlad's shoulder awkwardly and telling him everything would be alright, thinking anxiously of morning registration and his already abysmal term report.

The next week Vlad had attended every day, went to rugby practice and, when he went round in the evenings, he saw that Mr. Cuddles was always propped carefully against Vlad's pillows. But it was too late, things had already changed.

It just took him a painfully long time to realise it.

* * *

"Look at this!" Darren called a few days later, laughing as Robin struggled with a bundle of piping. "You want to get down the gym!" He pinched at his arms, "Work up some muscle."

"Muscle? Robin?" Ian scoffed, "You must be jesting!"

Paul nodded, "No chance there. Look at him!" He scrubbed a hand through Robin's hair and Robin jerked away, scowling. "That's why your boyfriend went off you, wasn't it?"

"His what!?" Darren exclaimed, falling about laughing.

"Vladdy Count!" Ian laughed, "Love of his life."

"Wouldn't visit a forest with anyone else, would you?" Paul sniggered.

Darren looked genuinely shocked, "You being serious? He's got a boyfriend?"

" _Had_ ," Ian stressed. "Had a boyfriend. Vlad got bored of him, didn't he?"

"You can't blame him, can you?" Paul shook his head.

It was there, in that moment, Robin made the decision.

* * *

Before Vlad he'd sometimes thought that maybe life would be better if he tried to fit in. Stopped staying up all night with his telescope and checking out every book on vampires in Stokely public library. Pretended to be interested in sport and scouts and sunshine.

Then Vlad had arrived and, for a while, he'd believed that he didn't need to be anyone else. Vlad, for all his pale perfectness, had been so terminally uncool. The two of them freaks together.

Forever.

That had been what Vlad had promised the night before his transformation, tears streaking down his face, salt tinged kisses as they'd curled together on Vlad's bed. He'd been so desperate to believe after everything that had happened, had clung to Vlad like a lifeline as he dropped his guard, admitted things he'd never told anyone.

No matter how much the memory makes his chest twist, pain like stabbing knives, it's still better than what Vlad had told him the day after.

He had never been anything more than a mistake.

* * *

Later he stared at the stranger staring back at him from his bedroom mirror. Vlad wouldn't recognize him, he thought with an odd sense of hollowness; he barely recognized himself.

This wasn't what he had wanted. None of it.

He'd once imagined doing this in front of Vlad, he remembered as he pressed the cool blade to his wrist.  _For_  Vlad.

But Vlad was never coming back.

And now, he clenched his eyes shut as the pain spread still deeper, he wouldn't either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	76. Robin / Vlad, Best Laid Plans.

"I could do that for you, Ingrid."  
  
Ingrid turned and sneered at Robin's enthusiastic grin.  
  
"Branagh, I would sooner give myself a lobotomy with a screwdriver than have you touch me." She struggled with the clasp herself. It was bad enough that Vlad had to have breathers around at all. The least they could do was leave her alone.  
  
It got tiresome, being so popular. Vlad, of course, couldn't understand, being rightly detested by everyone. If he knew what it was like having to fend off the advances of some repulsive, brain-dead, little maggot…  
  
Ingrid stopped. Why hadn't she thought of it before? Not that it mattered. She'd thought of it now, and she was going to put the plan into action.  
  
She gave Robin a false smile. "Look into my eyes."

* * *

Vlad trudged down the stairs, unsurprised to find Robin waiting for him. Robin had taken to knocking for him early in the mornings in the hope of seeing Ingrid, now that she wasn't at school.

"Morning." He called. Ingrid ignored him and Robin just stared at him silently. He answered himself sarcastically, "Good morning Vlad, how are you? Oh, I'm just fine, thanks for asking."  
  
"Talking to yourself?" Ingrid smirked at him. "First sign of madness."  
  
Vlad scowled and made for the door, anticipating the usual battle to get Robin to follow. He didn't know if he was happy or unnerved to find Robin rushing to hold it open for him.

* * *

"Is he alright?" Chloe nudged her head in her brother's direction as she sat down, dropping her book-bag and placing her lunch on the table.

Vlad shrugged at her. Robin was really acting weirdly, following him around like a lost puppy. Not that he didn't normally, it was just that, well, he'd been a lot more insistent about it. He'd done nothing but stare at him all through maths. It was creeping him out.  
  
"Oh, I get it." Chloe followed Robin's gaze, discounting Vlad completely, to the table behind him where Jodie Hughes was sat with her friends. "You're still upset she turned you down."  
  
"Why would I care about her?" Robin scowled. Chloe and Vlad shared a look that made it clear how little they believed him.

* * *

"Robin!" Vlad hissed, glancing warily back at their classmates, "What are you doing?"

"Don't you like them?"  
  
Vlad gaped at the other boy. Perhaps he'd taken a rugby ball to the head when he wasn't looking? Mr. Jenkins was striding across the pitch, blowing his whistle as he did so. Vlad could see Richard Price and the other popular boys pointing and laughing.  
  
"What's going on here, lads? This is a rugby match, not a tea party!"  
  
Vlad blushed.  
  
"I just wanted to give Vlad these flowers, Sir. They're his favourites."  
  
The tendons in Mr. Jenkins' neck were swelling up, his face going red with rage. Vlad gave him a look that he hoped said 'it was nothing to do with me!' Just as he was sure Jenkins would have an aneurism, he wrenched the rather pitiful bunch of daffodils from Robin's hand and bellowed, "My office. Now Branagh!"

* * *

"What did old Jenkins say?"

"Hmmm?" Robin looked up, fixing him with the same glass eyed look he'd had all day. "Oh, nothing. Just said I should try and get into your pants on my time, not his."  
  
Robin went back to his drawing and Vlad stared at him in shock. He really hoped that was Robin's idea of a joke. Realising that, either way, Robin wasn't going to say anything else he tried to concentrate on his own artwork. He wasn't very good at art; his owl looked more like road kill than a 'night stalker'; the theme they'd been given for the afternoon.  
  
"That's very good, Robin." Miss Kowalski was making her usual rounds to check they were working; Vlad used his arm to shield the worst of his attempt from her beady eye. Oblivious to Vlad's scheming, she took Robin's sheet and held it up to show the rest of the class.  
  
"Robin's been very imaginative. Vampires are perfect 'night stalkers'."  
  
Vlad looked at it and blanched, there was no way that was a picture of what he thought it was. No way would Robin have drawn a picture of two vampires kissing. No way would he have drawn a picture of two male vampires kissing. No way would he have drawn a picture of him kissing Robin…  
  
"Branagh," Price called from his compulsory seat next to Miss Kowalski's desk, "that's disgusting! No-one wants to see what you and  _Count_  get up to." The appalled looks on everyone else's faces suggested it was a consensus view.  
  
Vlad just hid his head in his hands.

* * *

Ingrid peered through a crack in the window shutters. Branagh was trailing after Vlad, carrying both of their backpacks. Vlad, she noted with smug amusement, looked terrified. Branagh bent down to hand over the bag, moving closer to Vlad. Vlad attempted to shrink away from him.

Ingrid grinned in triumph. Her work was done; Vlad was so obsessed with being 'normal', in ten minutes time Branaugh would be out of her hair for good.  
  
Outside the castle Vlad strained back from Robin, heart thudding in his chest as the other boy's hand came up to cup his cheek.  
  
"Robin-" His 'what do you think you're doing!' was cut off by the warm press of Robin's lips against his. Vlad moved his hands up to push Robin away – snogging his best mate on the door step was not really what he'd had in mind when he'd complained that no-one ever liked him like that – but Robin had pressed closer and Vlad found himself simply resting them on Robin's forearms.  
  
Robin angled his head slightly, the hand that had been resting against his cheek pushing into his hair, holding his head in place. And, then, there was the wet swipe of Robin's tongue and Vlad opened his mouth in shock, only for Robin to use the opportunity to delve deeper. The slick stroke of Robin's tongue against his own was doing strange things to his ability to think clearly; his skin was tingling, like he was charged all over with static.  
  
The hand not twined in his hair strayed down to his hip, insistent pressure encouraging him to press closer still to Robin, which he did. Vlad felt light headed and wound his own hands into Robin's hair, clinging to him, afraid he might collapse in a trembling heap if he let go…  
  
"Vlad!" They broke apart reluctantly to see Ingrid stood in the doorway, looking even more malevolent than usual, half shrouded in shadow. "A word!"  
  
Robin kissed his cheek. Vlad blushed and fussed with his bag as Robin called, "I'll see you later, Vlad!" before making his way out of the castle gates. Vlad turned to Ingrid and shrugged.  
  
It seemed she wasn't the only one with the vampiric powers of attraction after all.

* * *

* * *

* * *

[PART TWO]

"Quiet!"

The excited chatter died away as Van Helsing glared from the front of the coach.  
  
"Today you will be representing Stokely Grammar. That means I don't want to see any mucking about. And trust me; I shall be keeping a close eye on all of you. Especially  _you_ , Count." He pointed at Vlad. "A  _very_  close eye."  
  
Miss Kowalski stood and put a hand on his arm. "What Mr. Van Helsing is trying to say, is that we can have fun on this trip  _responsibly_. Isn't that right, Mr. Van Helsing?"  
  
Van Helsing 'hmmmed' noncommittally before sitting down, giving Vlad another warning glare as he did so.

* * *

"Robin?"

Robin stared out of the window, ignoring him. Vlad sighed; what was the point? Robin was being stupid, had refused to talk to him since Ingrid had broken her hold over him. Like it was his fault Ingrid was a complete cow.  
  
That wasn't to say Robin hadn't yelled at him. Accusing him of everything from not knowing him ('do I normally try and give you flowers during games!') to taking advantage of the situation ('why didn't you stop me!')  
  
'Because I was enjoying it', although true, hadn't really seemed the right answer, given the circumstances.  
  
Vlad tried again. "Does it really matter what everyone thinks?"  
  
Because, really, did it? He didn't particularly care how many people scrawled  _Vlad is a poof_  across the toilet walls, so long as it didn't bother Robin… Vlad put his hand on Robin's arm, trying to show him how he felt.  
  
Robin looked at his hand like it was some venomous spider, before hissing, "Vlad, how many more times do I 'ave to say it?" He got louder, pitching it, Vlad was sure, for all the snobby girls sat in front of them, "I'm not gay!"  
  
The rest of the journey was spent in tense silence.

* * *

They'd been wandering around the art gallery for over an hour and enthusiasm was rapidly waning. Vlad shifted his backpack to the other shoulder as they stopped in front of a seven foot canvas depicting what, Vlad could only assume, were actually supposed to be a series of random splodges.

"What do we think of this then?" Miss. Kowalski motioned at it.  
  
"I think it's gay, Miss. Like Vlad." Price shoved Vlad as he said it. Vlad gritted his teeth and looked over at Robin for support – only for the other boy to steadfastly refuse to meet his gaze.  
  
"Richard! What an awful thing to say." Miss. Kowalski sounded horrified and Vlad let himself hope somebody was finally going to get Price off his case. "This is one of the greatest artworks of the last twenty years!"

* * *

"So, how many of you losers have actually done  _it_ yet?"

Price eyed them all up as he took a deep drag on his cigarette. The smoke made Vlad cough, choking on the sandwich Renfield had packed him.  
  
"I have!" Peter Miller piped up.  
  
Vlad didn't think it very likely; you could hardly see Miller for his spots. In fact, Miller was the only boy in their year Vlad was certain the girls preferred him over.  
  
"Your hand doesn't count, Miller." Davis snickered and Price continued, "What about you, Branagh?"  
  
"It's none of your business."  
  
Vlad looked at Robin curiously, not liking the pull of jealousy in his gut at the thought of Robin doing anything with anyone but him.  
  
Davis' voice was mocking as he responded, "Aw, I bet Count would let you if you asked him nicely."  
  
"Yeah," Tommo Watson went on, "face it; he's not going to be getting any other offers."  
  
Vlad scowled.  
  
Price took a last drag and flicked the cigarette away, blowing the smoke through his nose. "And you know what?" He said like he was offering advice. "Count's so much of a girl; it probably won't even make you a proper bender."  
  
Robin went deathly pale, his hands clenched at his sides. "Screw you, Price."  
  
Vlad followed anxiously as Robin strode away, trying to ignore Price's call of 'you wish, Branagh!'  


 

  
"Robin Branagh? Has anyone seen him?" asked Miss Kowalski, looking up from the clipboard in her hand.  
  
Everyone shook their heads. They were lined up outside the coach, patience waning after another two hours of trudging around the gallery.  
  
Vlad realised he hadn't seen Robin for over an hour, not since he had stormed off in the direction of the special exhibition room (currently hosting 'Boats of Death: a Sea Story'), eloquently telling him to 'just go away and leave me alone, Vlad!'  
  
"Can't we just leave him here, Miss?" Davis whined. "I've got a footy match at five."  
  
"No, Andrew, we can't."  
  
The crowd erupted into discontented grumbling.

* * *

"Where is he, Count?"

"I don't know, Sir."  
  
Van Helsing sat next to him, putting an arm round his shoulder like he was comforting rather than threatening. "Come on, Vlad. Accidents happen. You were probably just fooling around," Vlad looked at Van Helsing sharply. "You bit a little too hard. And, suddenly, you're standing over his cold _lifeless_  body."  
  
"No!" Everyone looked and Vlad continued more quietly. "He's my best friend! I wouldn't hurt him."  
  
They looked up at that moment to see Robin being dragged by the arm by an irate looking museum curator.  
  
"This one of yours? I found him underneath a  _der Beeke_. At least he came off worse." He waved an arm at the bruise forming on Robin's forehead.  
  
Van Helsing pushed away from Vlad, stalking over to the pair. "Branagh, what did I tell you!"

* * *

"So, it just fell on you?"

Vlad touched his fingertips to the mark on Robin's temple. Robin looked at him wide-eyed for a moment, before a blush spread across his cheeks. He looked away, "I don't want to talk about it, Vlad."  
  
Vlad dropped his hand miserably. Of course, Robin still didn't want to speak to him. And he'd probably have a go about him being too gay about it.  
  
Robin surprised him by hesitantly touching the back of his hand. "Look, I didn't mean – just not here." He swallowed audibly. "Do you want to come round mine when we get back?"  
  
Vlad looked at their hands, then at Robin's face, grinning widely. "Yeah, that'd be great."  
  
Robin smiled back shyly and, for Vlad, not even Davis' call of 'get a room, freaks!' could spoil the moment.

* * *

"Are you  _sure_  you've not been hypnotised?"

"Yes, Vlad."  
  
"And you're not concussed?"  
  
"No, Vlad."  
  
"And you're not going to yell at me again tomorrow?"  
  
Robin sighed and shifted closer to him. They were sat on Robin's bed, Vlad agitatedly bending a plastic skeleton out of shape.  
  
"No, Vlad." He pulled the skeleton out of Vlad's grip and dropped it to the floor. "When that painting fell on me, I realised how stupid I was being – like, you know, on telly when people are about to die and they see their life flash before their eyes?"  
  
Vlad, never having seen much television, just nodded dumbly.  
  
"Well, I thought about you." Robin took his hand. "About how you never ditched me even though everyone thinks I'm a total weirdo." He paused for a moment. "So, if you don't care what they say, I won't either. I –" He looked up at Vlad, more sincere than Vlad had ever seen him. "I really like you, Vlad."  
  
Vlad felt like his heart was melting into a big gooey puddle, the stupid grin he couldn't keep off his face would easily rival anything in the rom-coms Robin so hated, he was sure. In an attempt to stop himself from confessing his undying love like a ten year old girl he asked,  
  
"Does your head still hurt?"  
  
"A bit." Robin smiled at him cheekily, although Vlad could tell he was still nervous. "Maybe you could kiss it better?"  
  
Vlad leant over and pressed a soft kiss to Robin's temple, his heart thumping so hard against his ribcage he was certain Robin could hear it.  
  
He pulled back to look into Robin's eyes. They were hot and dark and Vlad had to clear his throat before he could whisper, "And now?"  
  
Robin gazed at him intently. "I think we need to try harder."  
  
Vlad just had time to think that,  _actually_ , he had the best sister in the world, before Robin's lips were on his and coherent thought went out of the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	77. Count / Eric van Helsing, sort of... Mr. Branagh accuses the Count of losing his touch. The Count sets out to prove him wrong.

"Well, well. That was impressive, wasn't it?"  
  
"What do you want?" The Count snarled at the sight of Mr. Branagh's smug face, moving over to the kitchen's small sink. He hated going to these stupid breather events, if it weren't for Vlad… He twisted the tap on viciously. You'd think she would be glad he had offered to help with the fundraising.  
  
With her looks £10 was a very generous offer.  
  
The Count sighed, touching his fingers to his swollen cheek. So Miss. Davies had slapped him across the face, it was a front; nobody was immune to the Dracula charm.  
  
Mr. Branagh seemed to think otherwise.  
  
"You must be a little too old for her."  
  
"She was playing hard to get!" The Count hissed, pressing a wad of wet tissues to the welt.  
  
"Face it; you're losing your touch," Mr. Branagh said, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the counter.  
  
The Count resisted the urge to wrench said arms from their sockets and stick them where the sun didn't shine.  
  
"I could seduce anyone!  _Anyone_!"  
  
"Really?" Mr. Branagh asked. "How much would you be willing to wager on it?"  
  
"Ten, no, twenty," the Count snarled at Mr. Branagh's raised eyebrow, "fine,  _fifty_  of your peasant pounds."  
  
"Anyone, you say?"  
  
"Yes, anyone!"  
  
Mrs. Branagh chose that moment to stick her head round the door and they both looked away guiltily. "Come on Graham, we'll miss  _Gardener's World_."  
  
Mr. Branagh followed meekly, pausing at the threshold to hiss, "You're on."

* * *

"Oh, it's lovely to see you, Mr. Count. We're so sorry about the misunderstanding yesterday," Mrs. Davies jerked her head in the direction of her daughter. The Count waved at her and she glowered darkly. Mrs. Davies continued obliviously, "Patricia always jumps to conclusions."

The Count waved a hand in mock geniality, subtly rearranging his cape at the same time, so it showed off his cheekbones to their best advantage.  
  
"Julie!" Mrs. Davies placed an apologetic hand on his arm, calling over to a girl attempting to barbecue someone's handbag. "Excuse me, Mr. Count. Help yourself to the food," She called over her shoulder.  
  
Mr. Branagh used the opportunity to sidle closer. He had obviously come straight from a scout meeting, the Count thought, sneering at the sight of his bare knees. As he kept telling Vlad, there could be no respect for a man in shorts.  
  
"Still on for our little bet, Mr. Count?"  
  
"Naturally. I could have anyone here bending over backwards for the chance to touch my lips."  
  
"It has to be a proper kiss, mind."  
  
The Count narrowed his eyes and reminded himself that Vlad would be very upset if he killed his breather friend's father. Although he wondered, as Mr. Branagh adjusted his woggle, if Vlad would be upset for so very long…  
  
"So," the Count said in an attempt to avoid temptation, "who shall I seduce? Her?" He pointed at a girl barely older than Ingrid, with long, flowing, chestnut hair.  
  
"Her?" He pointed at a woman of about 25 years, with a tight fitting pencil skirt and low-cut top.  
  
"Her?" He pointed at Mrs. Branagh. At Mr. Branagh's glare, he went on, "No woman is unsusceptible to my roguish good looks."  
  
"Ah, but, Mr. Count, where would the challenge be in that? If they just fall straight into your arms?"  
  
The Count scowled, "Who would you suggest then?"  
  
Mr. Branagh's expression hardened. "I was thinking, oh, I don't know; Mr. Van Helsing."  
  
"What! Are you mad!"  
  
Mr. Branagh held a hand out, "Fifty pounds it is then."  
  
"Fine!"

* * *

"So, peas – er, Eric, do you come here often?"

Jonno snorted and the Count glared. How dare the breather brat mock him!  
  
"I work here," Van Helsing frowned.  
  
"Yes, of course." The Count flicked his hair and flashed his boyish smile, the one that had had all the silent movie starlets offering their services back in the day.  
  
Van Helsing was singularly unaffected. He moved to leave and the Count caught sight of Branagh's smirking face.  
  
"Wait!" He laid a hand on Van Helsing's arm, thinking desperately of something to say. He settled on, "How is my Vladdy doing at school?"  
  
Van Helsing's lip curled in distaste. "Between them, your son and Robin Branagh cause more disruption than the rest of their year combined."  
  
"Really?" The Count stood taller, chest swelled with pride.  
  
"Is that all?" Van Helsing eyed him pointedly, removing the hand still lying on his arm. As he walked away the Count could hear Mr. Branagh actually laughing at him.

* * *

"Dad.  _Dad_.  ** _Dad!_** "

"Yes, Vlad?" The Count asked, not taking his gaze off Van Helsing. He would not lose a bet to that peasant; Van Helsing would succumb to his charm!  
  
"You have to stop Ingrid, she keeps hypnotising the boys into thinking the rugby pitch is a swimming pool!" Vlad pointed over at the darkened field, the squirming figures of the rugby team trying to do butterfly stroke across the touch line just visible.  
  
"Hypnotising… Vlad, you're a genius!"  
  
Vlad was left standing in front of thin air. "Yeah, great, thanks, dad. I'll just sort it out myself then."

* * *

"Van Helsing."

The man in question looked up from where he was slathering ketchup on his burger. The Count fixed him with his hypnosis gaze,  
  
"You want to kiss me. Desperately."  
  
Mr. Branagh gave him a small wave, and the Count growled in annoyance, "Now!"

* * *

"Oh my God. Vlad, isn't that your dad?" Robin stuttered.

"And Mr. Van Helsing!" Chloe added, eyes wide.  
  
Vlad turned just in time to see Van Helsing  _snogging_ his dad, one hand on the back of his head, the other clutching at his cape.  
  
Price even let up on the Chinese burn he was administering in retaliation for his muddy shirt to watch,  
  
"So, that's where you get it from, eh, Count?"

* * *

"Dad!" Vlad protested, " _What_  are you doing?"

"Ah, Eric, you know my son?"  
  
Van Helsing nodded, his eyes glazed. Vlad groaned: hypnosis.  
  
The Count leant down to hiss in his ear, "That idiot father of your peasant friend owes me fifty pounds, Vlad! Ah, here he comes now."  
  
Straightening up he said, "Mr. Branagh. What a pleasant surprise. What's this, fifty crisp British pounds for me? You shouldn't have." He grinned nastily, running the note under his nose like it was a fine cigar, before stuffing it into his waistcoat pocket.  
  
"I don't know how you did it, Count. Something underhand, no doubt."  
  
"Look at him," the Count gestured at Van Helsing who was staring glassy eyed at him, "he is simply enthralled by my ethereal beauty."  
  
Mr. Branagh snorted. "He looks sickened if you ask me."  
  
"Well I wasn't asking you, you disgusting peasant!"  
  
"Come morning he'll be trying to forget this ever happened."  
  
"How much do you want to bet?"  
  
"Ten pounds."  
  
"Make it twenty."  
  
"Done."  
  
"Done."  
  
They both stormed off in opposite directions, Van Helsing trailing helplessly after the Count.  
  
Vlad heaved a sigh and wished, not for the first time, that he could just lead a normal life…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	78. Robin / Vlad, Mary-Sue fic for a Halloween challenge.

Susan Ivanescu was the new girl at school. She had long, wavy dark hair, and wide green eyes. She was popular and pretty and her skirt was so short Robin was sure that, if he watched for long enough, he was bound to catch a glimpse of something.  
  
It wasn't just him watching either, Robin noted. Jonno Van Helsing's eyes looked about ready to pop out of his head. Not that he had a chance. A girl like Susan wouldn't be interested in a drip like Van Helsing.  
  
Next to him Vlad was watching too, although he seemed less than impressed. "I don't know what's so interesting about her."  
  
"Her skirt," Robin grinned, looking pointedly in her direction as she sat down.  
  
"You shouldn't even be looking," Vlad sniped, picking apart his dinner. "You're supposed to be with me."  
  
The comment irritated him, even as he recognised, deep down, that Vlad probably had a point. It was the way he was making it, Robin decided. There was no way he was about to let Vlad start telling him what he could and could not do.  
  
Aloud he said, "I was only looking, Vlad. There's no law against it."  
  
Vlad glared harder. "There ought to be."

* * *

The air between them was still thick with tension when the bell rang for afternoon registration. Susan smiled at him as he sat down, and he smiled back eagerly, aware all the time of the way Vlad was glaring at her, the fingers of one hand curled into a fist.

When Mr. Griffiths called his name Robin even caught a flash of fang, a sure sign Vlad was in a terrible mood. He felt sorry for Vlad, really. He had had to give up scouts and rugby, and even chess club because he couldn't control his temper. He was getting worse with every passing day, in Robin's opinion. It was kind of exciting.  
  
"Count, Branagh; a word." Griffiths called as the rest of the class filed out. Robin looked to Vlad for explanation but the other boy just shrugged tightly. "It's about Susan," Griffiths started.  
  
"What, you want me to work with her?" Vlad cut in, tone sarcastic, "Because her English isn't good enough and I can translate for her."  
  
Griffiths gave him a withering look, "I've seen your last English report, Count, don't be an idiot." He turned his attention to Robin, "Mr. Perkins is organising an art project and he wants you and Susan to work together on it. Go and see him at the end of the day."  
  
"What did you want to see me for then?" Vlad asked, frowning.  
  
Griffiths smirked. "Fighting in the corridor. Ringing any bells, Count?"  
  
Robin gave his best friend an apologetic look and left them to it.

* * *

Later, they were sat together in Robin's bedroom playing computer games. He hadn't had the game long, and Vlad had never played it at all, his inexperience obvious. Robin could hardly keep the triumph under wraps; he hadn't managed to beat Vlad at anything in weeks.

"Yes!" He hissed as his victory finally flashed across the screen, fingers protesting as he unclenched them from around the control pad. "What 'appened to your enhanced vampire powers then?"  
  
He was expecting Vlad to pout and sulk, maybe even demand a rematch. He wasn't expecting Vlad to throw his pad to the floor and storm to his feet, anger pouring off him in waves.  
  
"Come on, Vlad," Robin grinned, resting his chin in one hand, looking up at him, "Don't be a sore loser now. Just admit it; I'm a better player than you are." Vlad's jaw was twitching, shoulders tense and he couldn't resist pushing further. "I'm waiting."  
  
Vlad didn't open his mouth; instead he flung himself at him, shoving him back against the bed, hands digging painfully into his shoulders. Robin stared, eyes wide, at the cruel twist to Vlad's mouth, and the black swamping the bright blue of his eyes.  
  
It made his heart thump wildly in his chest, uncertain whether Vlad was going to kiss him or punch him. Even when Vlad finally made his choice, clacking their teeth together with uncoordinated enthusiasm, Robin couldn't shake the feeling that there hadn't been a lot between it.

* * *

He was worrying at his bottom lip the following day, waiting for Susan so they could make a start on their project. The flashes of pain reminding him of the fact Vlad had managed to draw blood. Moving to suck at his neck possessively and leaving bruises on his arms where he had pinned him down, pressing against him with purpose like nothing they had ever done together.

"Have you fought?" A thickly accented voice cut through his thoughts, making him blush although its owner had no way of knowing what those thoughts had been about. "You are injured."  
  
"It's nothing." Robin shrugged hurriedly, feeling suddenly nervous. Susan was already so popular, more popular than he had ever been. Than he was ever likely to be with Vlad's weirdness dragging him down.  
  
She smiled then, knowingly, setting down her sketchpad. "So, it was that kind of fighting. You are with Vlad, yes?"  
  
Robin hesitated, not wanting her to think badly of him. To laugh at him in the same way all the other popular kids did, sniggering and smirking and shoving at him in the corridors. But, even if he denied it she would find out the truth soon enough. He nodded slowly, waiting for her reaction.  
  
"I knew it," she grinned. "Romanians are just irresistible."

* * *

Over the next few weeks they worked together regularly, and Robin was surprised to find that, as well as being pretty, she was really good company. Girls usually did their best to avoid him; even Chloe could never get wait to get rid of him lately.

It made him feel better about himself every time she laughed at his jokes, or smiled at him in greeting, as if the rest of her group weren't sneering down their powdered noses at him. He felt terrible for thinking it but, if it weren't for Vlad, everything would be perfect.  
  
Because when they were together she was always asking about Vlad; how was he, what were his hobbies, how long had they known each other? It made him feel guilty for wishing she would ask about him instead. She was only trying to be polite, asking him about his boyfriend.  
  
It was a shame he couldn't say the same about Vlad, being polite that is. The other boy just kept getting worse. He was acting more like Ingrid, temper always hanging by the thinnest of threads. And nothing seemed to grate on it more than the time he was spending with Susan.  
  
"Who's that?" Vlad demanded as his phone bleeped, trying to peer over his shoulder as he dug the handset from his pocket. Vlad's arm was wrapped around his shoulder, and Robin tried to cover the screen with his hand to stop Vlad looking,  
  
"None of your beeswax."  
  
"It's her, isn't it?" Vlad sat up properly, forcing him to face him, tv forgotten. "Show me."  
  
Robin glared at him, "It's my mam if you must know. And," he went on, "Even if it was her I wouldn't show you. It's nothing to do with you."  
  
For a moment he thought Vlad was going to argue back; his eyes were dark and hard and Robin found himself holding his breath. And, then, it was gone.  
  
"I'm sorry, I just don't like her."  
  
"She's my friend," Robin protested, but let Vlad pull him back to his side, to rest against him. "And she's got a boyfriend." He knew that was the real problem. It was sweet, really, Vlad being so jealous.  
  
"She fancies you," Vlad said, dropping a kiss into his hair to soften the vicious tone.  
  
"Of course she fancies me," Robin squirmed, getting comfortable, "I'm well fit."  
  
For once, Vlad didn't even laugh.

* * *

Vlad wasn't placated for long however. He wanted to know where he was, what he was doing, and who he was doing it with. Every second of every day. At least that was the way it felt.

It was testing his patience.  
  
Susan picked up on it the instant he walked through the door of the art room.  
  
"Have you argued with Vlad?" She asked, eyes soft and concerned. Robin wanted to tell her, to explain how unreasonable Vlad was being. He couldn't, he knew. Nobody would be able to understand that it wasn't Vlad's fault. So, he just looked away,  
  
"I don't want to talk about it."  
  
She didn't push it, changing the subject. "It is difficult when you spend much time together," she told him matter of factly, "I often want to wring Jonno's neck."  
  
"Jonno?" Robin frowned. Susan was seeing Darren Hicks from the year above. He had a car and everybody said he was going to spend his career doing great things out on the football pitch. Jonno, even now he had stopped trying to stake anyone who looked a bit pasty, was a serious comedown.  
  
"I'm staying with the Van Helsings," she told him casually. "On a church exchange."  
  
"So you're into all that bible basher stuff?" Robin grimaced; there was no way she wouldn't take that badly. Mr. Van Helsing was really into it though. Once a slayer, always a slayer. He had lasted all of about three weeks after having his memory wiped before he'd spotted him in the town centre handing out flyers for the local evangelical church. It was probably only a matter of time until he remembered his 'real' calling.  
  
Susan shrugged, carefully putting the finishing touches to a painting. "Some of it." She straightened up, giving the sheet an appraising look. It was all dark and death, Robin had chosen it. Mr. Perkins was entering it into a competition. Robin thought it would be the first time Stokely Grammar had won anything. Susan smiled at him, "The youth club's alright. You should come."  
  
Robin didn't answer, staring down at his own worksheet. Vlad would go mad. Susan gave him a searching look,  
  
"You can bring Vlad." She shrugged, and moved to put her equipment away. "If you want to."

* * *

He and Vlad had been going out for nearly a year now. He had had to tell the Count he was the reason Vlad wasn't out and about creating new Draculas, and his own parents that they might never get a daughter-in-law out of him. But he had never felt anywhere near as nervous doing that as he was telling Vlad he was going to take Susan up on her invitation.

"You can come with me," he finished hastily, unable to read the tense expression on Vlad's face. Vlad was unpredictable lately. One minute he might be trying to put his fist through a wall, the next sobbing his eyes out.  
  
Right now he looked like he was going to go with the former. "You know I can't."  
  
"Why? Because you're jealous someone else likes me?"  
  
"No!" Vlad protested. "Because it's in a church."  
  
Robin couldn't really see Vlad's point. "It'd be really cool. We can see if all that fire and brimstone works on you." He scrabbled for the chain around his neck, hoping some humour might help Vlad calm down. Robin often thought he would make a good movie slayer, all set on ridding the world of vampires until one seduced him.  
  
Vlad didn't seem to think it was funny.  
  
"What are you wearing that for!" He was eyeing up the cross suspiciously, as if it hadn't been an integral part of his handsome – but brooding – goth look for as long as they had known each other. "Did she put you up to this?"  
  
"Why are you so obsessed with her?" Robin countered angrily. "You're doing my head in, Vlad! If you don't want to trust me," he hissed, wanting to hurt Vlad the same way the other boy's constant suspicion was hurting him, "I can give you a reason."  
  
Vlad grabbed hold of his arm then, fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to bruise. "You wouldn't dare!" Robin glared at him, gaze flickering from Vlad's hand to his face, before wrenching free of his grip.  
  
"I can do what I like."

* * *

At the club he couldn't think of anything but Vlad. The wide eyed look of shock on his face when he had walked out, and the cold look in his eyes when he had lost his temper. He wanted to talk to Vlad, wanted Vlad to apologise and start acting more like himself. Like he used to.

Richard Price broke through his thoughts. "Ugh, Branagh what are you doing here?"  
  
"You made it then?" Susan asked from his side, ignoring Price's outburst.  
  
"Yeah," he shifted awkwardly, "Vlad was busy."  
  
"Good," Price said. "He's a proper freak."  
  
Obviously trying to keep the peace, Susan spoke hurriedly, "Do you still want to get some night pictures? For the project. Richard's volunteered to be our corpse." She pressed tighter to him and Robin thought he had a good idea how she had managed to get Price to agree to it. "You should bring Vlad," she went on, "he'd make a good vampire."  
  
Price snorted, "He won't 'ave any choice. Don't do nothing unless Count gives you permission, do you, Branagh?"  
  
Robin scowled, thinking of the argument he had just had with Vlad.  
  
"So will you come?" Susan pressed. "We're going to do it tomorrow."  
  
Vlad would hate it, Robin thought. Price smirked at him and he made a decision. He didn't care what Vlad thought.  
  
"I'll be there."

* * *

When he got home his mam called him into the kitchen, expression solemn. "Vlad's up in your room, he's very upset. I told him you'd be hours but he wanted to wait for you."

"It's never a good sign that," Ian told him from his place at the kitchen table, "means he's feeling guilty." He nodded to himself, speaking around a mouthful of biscuit, "Been off to that forest without you, 'ave he?"  
  
Robin gave his brother a withering look and left the room, starting up the stairs with a heavy sense of trepidation.  
  
Vlad startled when he pushed the door open, looking up at with red rimmed eyes. "I'm really sorry, Robin." His voice was wobbly and Robin wondered how long he had been crying for. "I shouldn't have done it."  
  
"You're right," Robin told him, remembering the way Price had laughed at him for acquiescing so easily to Vlad. "You shouldn't 'ave." He rubbed at the bruises forming on his arm, "It was bang out of order."  
  
"I know," Vlad murmured, barely audible. "What am I going to do if I can't control it? The truce with the slayers will be broken. You'll leave me." He looked like he might cry again and Robin felt his chest constrict, like his heart were aching at the sight. He wanted to tell Vlad it was okay, and that he understood. But, if he did, they'd be right back to square one.  
  
He wasn't a pushover.  
  
"Maybe we should cool things off for a bit," he said, proud of the way his voice stayed steady. That was the kind of thing people said on TV when they wanted to prove a point, wasn't it? Vlad's face crumpled, as if he'd punctuated the point with a kick to the ribs.  
  
"You're going to dump me?"  
  
Vlad looked a mess, one hand running through his hair and the other swiping fresh tears from his cheek. Robin faltered,  
  
"I don't want to."  
  
"Please don't," Vlad latched on to his indecision, the pleading in his tone forcing Robin to look away. "I'll try harder to control it, I promise. You can see her as much as you want, I won't say anything. Just please –"  
  
Robin gave in and hugged Vlad to him, the other boy's tears soaking through the fabric of his t-shirt. In return Vlad clung to him, moving his head to press shaky kisses to his neck.  
  
"I don't want to be a vampire," he told him, words muffled against skin, and Robin pulled him closer understanding, for the first time, that Vlad might have a valid point.

* * *

His mam was desperate to find out what Vlad had been upset about the next day. Robin could feel the weight of her concerned gaze on the back of his neck as they trailed around town, couldn't help but pick up on her hinting that he might have something to tell her. By the time they ran into Mr. Perkins he was wishing he had tried harder to get out of going with her.

"Oh," His mam said to him, touching a hand to the man's arm and being embarrassingly over familiar, "I wanted to say thank you for getting Robin involved in this project. It gives him something other than computer games to focus on."  
  
Robin scowled.  
  
Mr. Perkins looked flustered, "It was all Eric Van Helsing's idea. He found out about the competition and suggested Susan and Robin." He gave Robin a smile, "He's going to go far, this one." Robin cringed, counting own the seconds until his mam let the man go on his way.  
  
"Did you hear that, Robin?" Mrs. Branagh was saying before his art teacher was even out of earshot, "and you always say Mr. Van Helsing doesn't like you. You need to give people more credit."  
  
For some reason, it just made him feel uneasy.

* * *

Part of him didn't want to have to face Vlad. He knew it would be awkward. But, if he went to meet Susan without seeing Vlad first, for all his assurances to the contrary, he was sure it would make things worse between them.

Ingrid answered the door, looking him up and down in distaste. "What have you been up to, Branagh? His Blandness is acting like even more of a drip than usual."  
  
Robin squirmed. "Nothing."  
  
She didn't look convinced, but let him in all the same. He found Vlad up in his room, with his homework balanced across his lap.  
  
"I don't know why you're bothering," Robin said, looking pointedly at Vlad's English book, "You'll be leaving soon anyway." He knew it had been the wrong thing to say as soon as the words left his mouth.  
  
"I don't know what to do, Robin," Vlad told him, expression grim. "I didn't think it would be like this. I never thought I might not be able to control myself."  
  
"You'll get used to it," Robin suggested.  
  
Vlad shook his head. "It'll be too late by then." He fixed him with a solemn look, "You know the terms, the slayers can attack in self-defence. They knew how hard it would be."  
  
"It's going to be okay," Robin lied, shifting to sit close to Vlad, curling their hands together. "I know you can do it." He pressed a kiss to Vlad's cheek, responding enthusiastically when Vlad turned his head to kiss him properly.  
  
"Do you still need a vampire for tonight?" Vlad asked when they came up for air. "I can wear my new cape."  
  
Robin hesitated. He had been wanting Vlad to get involved for weeks and, now he was offering, he didn't want him there. Vlad was watching him carefully and tensed up, voice overly casual when he spoke,  
  
"If you want me to. I don't have to come."  
  
He felt guilty then, because Vlad was making an effort, and put a hand to Vlad's cheek, so his thumb was stroking along his jaw. "Of course I want you there." Vlad smiled and he kissed him again.  
  
He was just being paranoid.

* * *

It was nearly dark when they reached Stokely graveyard, and it made him feel proud when Vlad's grip on his hand tightened. Price and Susan were already there; Price had fake blood dripping down the side of his face, and Susan was wearing a long black dress, her face deathly pale, although he could see streaks at the back of her neck where the paint hadn't been properly applied.

"You made it then," she smiled at him, and Vlad's grip tightened still further, although this time it wasn't in apprehension. "Have you got your camera?"  
  
Robin nodded and held it up, watching as Vlad retrieved his cape from his bag and pushed in the plastic fangs he had given him for the occasion. "Let's get it over then, shall we?"  
  
It didn't take long, not once they'd finished fiddling with the torches they'd brought for lighting, and Price had finished warning Vlad that he had better not touch him anymore than was necessary. Afterwards, when Price was busy scrubbing at the joke shop blood with a towel, Susan suggested they should take some more pictures of the headstones.  
  
Vlad wanted to leave, he could tell. His shoulders were tense and hunched, and he couldn't stop fidgeting. But, it wouldn't take very long, and he didn't want Price to think he couldn't make decision for himself. And, so, he found himself posing Susan against a weeping angel, trying not to think of the look Vlad had given him as he had led her further into the graveyard.  
  
"We'll 'ave to go in a minute," he told her. "We'll be in trouble if we get caught."  
  
"You worry too much," she said, leaning in to peer at the pictures he had already taken. She slid a hand along his shoulder and he froze, pulse thundering in his ears. "What people don't know, can't hurt them." She pressed closer still, sounding much louder, "What Vlad doesn't know – "  
  
He should push her away, he thought desperately. Someone else made the decision for him, pulling Susan's hand away roughly.  
  
"I knew it!"  
  
"It's not what it looks like!"  
  
Vlad wasn't listening, expression twisted with something that made Robin feel afraid. Susan just smirked at him, flicking her long hair over her shoulder and meeting his cold gaze with confidence. "Go ahead, Count," she smirked wider, the shadows cast by their torches making her features harsh and angular, "It's taken you long enough."  
  
"Vlad," Robin tried again, touching his own hand to Vlad's arm. "Leave her alone." Vlad just shook free, baring his teeth. His fangs were clearly visible but Susan didn't even look surprised. Instead she goaded him further, one hand on her hip,  
  
"Too much of a wimpire, aren't you? No wonder he's looking elsewhere."  
  
Robin caught sight of something in her hand, even as Vlad lunged at her. He didn't have time to think about it, consider his actions. "No!" He barely registered the yell was his own, pulling at the collar of Vlad's cape and forcing him to the ground, pinning him in place with his body weight. Vlad snarled at him and he wondered if he ought to try slapping him across the face to snap him out of it.  
  
It didn't seem like the best idea he'd ever had.  
  
Vlad screwed his eyes tight shut then, brow furrowed as if in pain. Robin felt relieved; he was going to fight it himself. He glared up at Susan instead, gaze lingering on the stake in her right hand.  
  
"I'll report you to the guild. You were trying to trick him."  
  
"Don't be stupid," she hissed, "I am the guild." She shook her head in obvious frustration, "I've been undercover for weeks." Robin thought of what Mr. Perkins had said, about Van Helsing arranging for them to work together, and knew it must be true.  
  
She opened her mouth to say more when Price lumbered into view, pulling a face as he took in the scene. "Bloody hell, show some respect why don't you?"  
  
Robin realised, suddenly, that he was straddling Vlad on top of someone's grave. He moved back sheepishly. Price shot him one last look of disgust before turning his attention to Susan, biting at his lip and smirking lecherously,  
  
"Still up for coming round mine then?"  
  
Susan looked from Price, to him and Vlad and back again, scowl deepening. "In. Your. Dreams." She stormed off, Price following close on her heels, not ready to believe he'd just been given the brush off.  
  
"You just saved my life."  
  
Robin turned to face Vlad, shocked to realise it was true. He shrugged, trying to act casual. "I know. I'm just amazing."  
  
Vlad helped him to his feet, keeping hold of his hand. The collar of his cape was crooked, and there was mud streaked across his cheek. But it didn't matter. Even if Van Helsing had remembered it didn't matter. They'd put a stop to his attempts once, they could do it again.  
  
"I wouldn't have done anything with her, Vlad," he told him, liking the way the moonlight played across Vlad's pale skin, as it emerged from behind the clouds. "Honest."  
  
"I know," Vlad smiled at him, soft and genuine like he hadn't in months, "I'm just amazing."  
  
Robin shook his head, grinning, and dragged him towards the gates. Everything would be okay. Somehow. They'd make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	79. Robin / Vlad, nightmares.

"You sure you're not going to 'ave nightmares, Vlad?"

"Robin," Vlad said haughtily, "I  _am_  the thing people have nightmares about." Robin thought he might have pulled it off, were it not for the way he was looking around nervously and clutching at Mr. Cuddles as he got into his sleeping bag.

"Don't be silly," Robin rolled over, making the most of the opportunity to outright  _watch_  Vlad, "nobody would 'ave nightmares about  _you_."

Vlad 'hmphed' in response and curled into his pillow. Robin smiled; half wishing he could voice the thought in his head. If Vlad was going to turn up in anyone's dreams, it certainly wouldn't be a  _nightmare_.

He should know.

* * *

"Robin?"

He squinted up at the moonlight, taking in the sight of Vlad at the side of his bed, biting at his lip. Groggily he shifted over, to face Vlad properly, "What's wrong?"

"I can't sleep."

Robin grinned, "What did I tell you?"

Vlad pulled a face, but didn't move. "Can," he fidgeted with the edge of the blanket, gaze downcast in a way that made him look, to Robin's eyes, impossibly beautiful, "I get in with you?"

Resisting the urge to pinch himself, Robin nodded dumbly; it was like all his dreams come true. He shifted over until he was pressed up against the wall, trying not to think too much as Vlad crawled in next to him, lest he totally embarrass himself.

"You know," Vlad whispered after a moment, "I won't bite."  _Worst luck_  Robin thought as Vlad went on, "Lie down properly."

Cautiously, he did as he was told, very aware of the narrowness of his bed. They lay in awkward silence for a long moment, his every muscle tense as he did his best not to touch Vlad too much. It was really a small price to pay for being in the same bed as Vlad.

"Robin?" Vlad shifted around and Robin clenched his eyes shut, desperately trying to concentrate on anything but the fact Vlad was pressed up tight against him. "I'm still scared. Can you hold me?"

"Ho-," his voice cracked and he had to start again, "hold you?"

"I'm sorry. Forget I asked."

Vlad made to turn away and it forced Robin into action. Carefully, he pulled Vlad closer, so that the other boy's head was against his chest. In an attempt to draw attention away from his body's reaction to having Vlad that close, he asked, "Were the giant leeches really that terrifying?"

Comforting, Robin repeated over and over in his head as Vlad got closer still, this was supposed to be comforting. He felt fingertips trace across the exposed skin of his neck, and he shivered. The sensation was many things; comforting was not one of them.

"Would you hate me if I said I wasn't scared?" Vlad propped himself up on one hand and gave him a smile that made it clear the proximity was far from comforting for both of them. "Would you hate me if I said I just wanted to be in bed with you?"

This was just too much, stuff like this didn't happen to him. Scarcely daring to believe it was real, Robin slid his fingers into the hair at Vlad's nape, heart pounding in his chest. Vlad smiled back at him, reassuring, and Robin used the hold to pull him down,

"I couldn't hate you, Vlad. So long as you stop  _talking_."

* * *

"Vlad. Oh, Vlad!"

Vlad sat up, holding his wrist up to the moonlight face of his wristwatch; 4am. Frowning, he moved closer to Robin. It had better be something important, he thought, rubbing at his eyes and untangling himself from his sleeping bag.

" _Vlad!"_

"Robin, it's late," he whispered plaintively. There was no answer, but Robin's hand was twitching where it lay against the blanket. Vlad peered closer and couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips at the realisation Robin was still asleep.

 _Who_  was having nightmares now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	80. Robin / Vlad, the 'ol one sentence challenge.

#01 – Comfort  
  
"You're really comfy, Vlad," Robin says, squirming against him in a way that makes Vlad feel anything but comfortable, "we should do this more often."  
  
#02 – Kiss  
  
"What's it like?" Vlad asks, not daring to remove his gaze from the cinema screen, half wishing he'd insisted on keeping the arm rest down, "Kissing, I mean."  
  
#03 – Soft  
  
"I dunno," Robin frowns, pondering, "sort of soft…" He grins lecherously, "Nice, though."  
  
#04 – Pain  
  
Jealousy, Vlad thinks, after a moment; that's what the searing pain in his chest is.  
  
#05 – Potatoes  
  
"Can we get chips?" Robin asks enthusiastically the instant they step outside; Vlad shrugs, why not?  
  
#06 – Rain  
  
Fine drizzle mists the night air, Robin's hair clinging to his forehead as he concentrates on shoveling food.  
  
#07 – Chocolate  
  
"Go on," Robin insists, holding out half of the chocolate bar he'd spent the best part of five minutes rooting in his coat pocket for, "I only got this one 'cos I know you like it."  
  
#08 – Happiness  
  
Vlad smiles, a happy genuine smile; in his own way, Robin does care.  
  
#09 – Telephone  
  
Robin's sucking chocolate from his fingers by the time his ring tone blares across the silent park, making Vlad jump in shock; he's glad, it gives him time to hide the evidence of what the sight has done to him.  
  
#10 – Ears  
  
"What? No," Robin scowls and Vlad looks away, whatever it is, it's not meant for his ears.  
  
#11 – Name  
  
"I'm sick of seeing her name!" Robin says viciously, gesturing at the caller ID – all was not well in paradise, clearly.  
  
#12 – Sensual  
  
The rain was heavier now and Vlad watched as water trickled down the pale skin of Robin's throat; these things were sent to test him.  
  
#13 – Death  
  
"Normally," Robin went on, "she wouldn't even care if I was dying. It's only 'cos I'm spending my money on me and not her."  
  
#14 – Sex  
  
"Yeah," Vlad smiles nervously, trying to keep his tone light, "but there must be something in it for you; why else would you put up with it?"  
  
#15 – Touch  
  
"You must be joking!" Robin grins, reaching out to pick a leaf Vlad hadn't even noticed from his hair, "I'd have more luck with you!"  
  
#16 – Weakness  
  
Vlad commits the moment to memory, wishing Robin's fingers would linger just a second longer; from the moment he met him, Robin's always been his weakness.  
  
#17 – Tears  
  
To his horror Vlad finds himself fighting against the sudden sting of tears; sometimes he feels he can't go on like this, always wanting and watching and wishing.  
  
#18 – Speed  
  
"Vlad?" Robin asks carefully, the other boy's dark eyes fixed intently on his face; he'd not hidden it quickly enough.  
  
#19 – Wind  
  
The wind howls against his chilled skin, and he realizes it's finally stopped raining.  
  
#20 – Freedom  
  
All around them is open space but Vlad doesn't feel any sense of freedom; Robin's not stupid, he'd always known he'd work it out eventually.  
  
#21 – Life  
  
"My life sucks," Vlad murmurs, looking at his feet, adding bitterly, "and my unlife is only going to suck even worse."  
  
#22 – Jealousy  
  
"You know I'm seeing Delila," Robin says awkwardly and Vlad nods, feeling the jealousy claw at him again; how could he ever forget?  
  
#23 – Hands  
  
He wrings his hands together, desperate to be somewhere else, somewhere where he doesn't have to keep it together.  
  
#24 – Taste  
  
The taste of rejection is acrid in his mouth, just as he'd always known it would be.  
  
#25 – Devotion  
  
"But, if I wasn't – " Robin starts, uncharacteristically struggling for words.  
  
#26 – Forever  
  
"You're my best friend, Vlad," Vlad forces himself to meet Robin's eyes, "You always will be. Forever."  
  
#27 – Blood  
  
"An' you know I'd let you," he arches his neck subtly and, in spite of his best efforts, Vlad feels his heart race in response, "if you wanted to."  
  
#28 – Sickness  
  
There's a long moment of silence as Vlad tries to control himself, to work out exactly what it is Robin is saying to him; the taller boy is the first to break it, "Come on, we'll catch our deaths if we stay out 'ere all night."  
  
#29 – Melody  
  
Music plays in his head as they round the corner of Robin's street; it's pathetic, Vlad scolds himself, to think of it as _their_ song.  
  
#30 – Star  
  
The sky is pitch black, not a star in sight; Vlad hopes it's not an omen.  
  
#31 – Home  
  
"Home sweet Home," Robin says, pulling a face as he fumbles for his door key.  
  
#32 – Confusion  
  
"Right," Vlad swallows thickly, turning to leave, oblivious to Robin's frown of confusion, "I'll see you tomorrow or something."  
  
#33 – Fear  
  
"But," Robin asks with, Vlad is almost sure he hasn't imagined it, just a hint of fear, "don't you want to stay?"  
  
#34 - Lightning/Thunder  
  
There's a roll of thunder overhead and the heaven's open; thus the decision is made for him.  
  
#35 – Bonds  
  
"Chloe'll be loving this," Robin smirks as he shuts the front door behind them, "I'm  _so_  gutted I'm missing the latest Branagh camping extravaganza."  
  
#36 – Market  
  
It makes his stomach flutter when Robin smiles; why, Vlad demands silently for what feels like the millionth time, did he have to be off the market?  
  
#37 – Technology  
  
"Aw, great," Robin sighs as the lights flicker once, twice, three times before they're plunged into darkness.  
  
#38 – Gift  
  
"They were a gift," Robin says in response to Vlad's pointed look; Vlad sniggers, remembering Robin's face when he had unwrapped them – you can't, so Robin had kept telling him, make a sacrifice to the Lord of the Underworld with pink candles.  
  
#39 – Smile  
  
It quickly softens into a smile at his look of annoyance; he could sit all day and watch the thoughts fly across Robin's expressive face.  
  
#40 – Innocence  
  
The power's still out an hour later when they're sat together on Robin's bed; "Have you really never kissed anyone?" Robin asks suddenly, smashing apart their unspoken agreement to pretend the whole thing had never happened.  
  
#41 – Completion  
  
Vlad nods miserably; didn't it just complete his humiliation?  
  
#42 – Clouds  
  
"I don't love her," Robin whispers into the stillness, the thick storm clouds ensuring the soft glow of candles is the only light source.  
  
#43 – Sky  
  
"Could you love me?" Vlad asks in a voice that doesn't stay steady, resisting the urge to look away at the sky, at anything, for fear of what he might not see in Robin's eyes.  
  
#44 – Heaven  
  
He'll never be welcome there, Vlad knows, but when Robin's lips touch his own he thinks that it must be exactly how heaven would feel.  
  
#45 – Hell  
  
"Vlad," Robin groans before kissing him again, the passion behind it making his head spin and his skin tingle; an eternity might not be so bad, Vlad thinks dimly, if he gets to do this on a regular basis.  
  
#46 – Sun  
  
He's panting by the time Robin moves back to let him breathe, although he can't help but feel slightly smug at the splashes of vivid colour across Robin's sun deprived skin.  
  
#47 – Moon  
  
"What will you tell her?" Vlad asks reluctantly, head resting against Robin's chest; he doesn't know how long they've lain together like that, but the clouds have cleared and moonlight is streaming through Robin's bedroom window.  
  
#48 – Waves  
  
Robin waves a hand dismissively, although Vlad can tell he's far from calm about it, "You're dumped. I've found someone who," Vlad hears the smile in his voice," is not only a better kisser than you; he only nags me half as much."  
  
#49 – Hair  
  
"Oi!" Vlad protests, smiling as Robin runs gentle fingers through his hair, "I don't nag."  
  
#50 – Supernova  
  
"You  _do_  nag," Robin says in a long suffering tone, "all the time. But, you're lucky," the hand in his hair stills and Vlad shifts so he can look up into Robin's face, a supernova of emotion threatening to overwhelm him at the expression on the other boy's face, "I love you anyway."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	81. Robin / Vlad, family weddings.

"Please go with me. I can't do it on my own."  
  
"It's only a wedding."  
  
"Only a wedding…" Robin shook his head, "You 'aven't met my family, you don't know what it's like. Please."  
  
Robin fixed him with a pleading look, the one that had once persuaded him to hypnotise Mr. and Mrs. Branagh into believing they were vampires and Vlad knew that, even if he wanted to, he wouldn't be able to refuse.  
  
"Alright," he sighed, trying to mask the fact that he was always elated whenever Robin asked him to go anywhere with him, even if it was just to the shop to buy more sweets.  
  
"Aw, thanks Vlad," Robin grinned at him and he couldn't help but smile back, "You're the greatest!"

* * *

"Aren't you going to go and 'ave a dance with your boyfriend, Robin?"

"He's not my boyfriend, Auntie Pat!" Robin shot Vlad an apologetic look. Vlad shrugged and smiled back; the only thing wrong, in his opinion, with people thinking they were a couple was that it was a reminder of the fact they weren't.  
  
"Aw, that's a shame," she said, eyeing Vlad up appraisingly, "I was just saying to your mam how grown up you're getting." She smiled at Robin, "It'll be you next."  
  
"I don't think so," Robin said, grimacing.  
  
Auntie Pat patted him on the shoulder consolingly, "You'll get there." Oblivious to Robin's scowling she went on, "Why don't you boys go on up to the bar and get something to drink." She nudged Robin, "What your father doesn't know won't hurt him, eh?"  
  
As she wandered away, mingling into the crowd, Robin shook his head, "See what I mean? I 'ave to put up with this all the time."  
  
Vlad schooled his face into, what he hoped was, an understanding expression and followed the other boy to the bar. It didn't seem so bad.

* * *

"So what's your name then?"

"Vlad."  
  
"Nice to meet you, Vlad," the bride offered him one carefully manicured hand and he shook it tentatively. "I like your suit, very smart."  
  
"Thanks," he murmured in response, feeling uncomfortable.  
  
"Don't worry, I won't bite!" She smiled, and Vlad sipped at his drink to hide the nerves that phrase always brought out in him. "So," she started, probing, "how long 'ave you been seeing Robin for then?"  
  
"We've been friends ever since I moved to Stokely," Vlad said, only realising his mistake when the words were out of his mouth, when he caught sight of Robin making his way back from the buffet table.  
  
She stood up and waved at Robin, calling "I've just been talking to your boyfriend, Robin!" as soon he got within hearing distance. "He's much too good for you."  
  
"He's not my boyfriend!"  
  
"Robin," she scolded, "Is that any way to treat a lovely young man like this?" She dropped a hand on Vlad's shoulder and it was his turn to give Robin an apologetic look. "Try being a bit nicer and it'll be you next."  
  
Robin shook his head and dropped into his seat, passing Vlad a plate as she walked away. "I wish they'd stop saying that."

* * *

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your boyfriend then, Robin?"

"He's not my boyfriend, Uncle Pete," Robin sighed. "His name's Vlad and we're just friends."  
  
_Worst luck_  Vlad thought distractedly as he sipped at his drink, the alcohol starting to make his cheeks burn and his head feel muzzy. He turned slightly to watch the twins giving a performance on the dance floor that what it lacked in talent, it more than made up for in energy.  
  
"You don't 'ave to pretend for my benefit, Robin, you know that," Uncle Pete said, leaning unsteadily against the empty chair next to Robin. "I always say that it doesn't matter who you love, so long as you love them." Robin shifted awkwardly and Vlad wished he could just ask Robin if there was any chance he could ever feel like that about him.  
  
Mr. Branagh chose that moment to return from the bar, manoeuvring his way back to the table and sliding into his seat,  
  
"I just heard they're having a bit of trouble with the toilets," he said, shaking his head, as he put their drinks down in front of them, "that's the problem with these big events. The volume of people using the flush mechanism-"  
  
Robin leaned in close, drowning out the sound of Mr. Branagh's explanation and raising gooseflesh where his warm breath caressed the skin of Vlad's neck, "Imagine if you really did 'ave to marry into this."  
  
Vlad kept his gaze on his glass, knowing he'd give too much away if he looked at Robin, but couldn't resist murmuring, "It'd be like a dream come true."  
  
"Oi," Robin grinned and picked up his own glass, misreading – as usual – what he was trying to tell him, "No need to be that sarky!"

* * *

Robin was drunk by the time Auntie Pat had completed her circuit and was back upon them, Mrs. Branagh in tow. Vlad could tell from the way his speech was even faster than usual and the way his hand kept tapping in time to the music – the same cheesy chart hits he'd earlier stated he'd sooner ram the handle of his plastic fork down his ear than have to listen to for another ten minutes.

"Don't they make a lovely couple, Elisabeth?"  
  
"I know," Mrs. Branagh nodded happily, ignoring the murderous expression on Robin's face. "I keep telling Graham it won't be long before we're watching these two get married!"  
  
"Mam!" Robin hissed, "We're not going to get married."  
  
"Oh, Robin," Mrs. Branagh tousled his hair and he scowled harder, "Don't be so miserable. I'm only teasing you."  
  
Vlad was still trying to work out whether Mrs. Branagh had meant she was teasing Robin about getting married, or teasing Robin about getting married to  _him_ when Auntie Pat put a hand around Robin's wrist, dragging him clean out of his seat,  
  
"Come and 'ave a dance with your Auntie Pat."  
  
Robin dug his heels in and looked terrified, one hand clinging to the back of his chair, "But Vlad will be on his –"  
  
"Your boyfriend won't mind for one song," she smiled at Vlad, "will you, love?"  
  
Vlad shook his head.  
  
"He's not my boy-"  
  
She pulled him again, the chair toppling with the force as she dragged Robin onto the dance floor, Mrs. Branagh following. Vlad righted the chair and rooted through Robin's jacket pocket for the other boy's mobile phone. This was simply too special a moment to go unrecorded.

Fifteen minutes and four songs later Robin was still on the dance floor, his movements having gone from embarrassed shuffling to some frenzied twisting that was giving Ian and Paul a run for their money.

Mrs. Branagh and Auntie Pat, who Vlad supposed had to be Mrs. Branagh's sister, returned to their table, sitting down and fixing him with a smile that made him want to run. It reminded him a little of his dad's hunting face.  
  
"Why don't you go and join him?" Auntie Pat asked, encouragingly.  
  
Mrs. Branagh went on, "I know he takes a while to get into the spirit of things, but he's alright when he gets going." She waved over to where Mr. Branagh was dancing out of synch with a faintly embarrassed looking Chloe before turning back to him, "He's just like his dad."  
  
"Right," Vlad nodded, biting back his smirk and standing up. Robin would hate that comparison.

* * *

"Vlad!" The welcoming grin on Robin's face was more than enough to compensate for having to dance, Vlad thought. When Robin curled warm fingers around his wrists and pulled him closer he found himself struggling to think of anything at all, beyond the fact that Robin was touching him, and smiling at him, and the certain knowledge that he was never going to let Renfield wash the shirt Robin had borrowed from him for the occasion.

Before he had chance to say anything in return the track was changing – something slow and soppy – and the twins were pulling faces and groaning, disappearing to their seats along with half the dance floor. Rather than follow their lead, as Vlad was expecting Robin to do, the other boy stared at him intently and pulled him closer still. When he showed no resistance Robin wrapped his hands around Vlad's waist, encouraging Vlad to put his own around the back of his neck.  
  
Vlad looked up at him curiously, at the hot blush spreading across Robin's cheeks, his heart thudding in his chest.  
  
They stayed like that for a long moment, the heat of Robin's hands through the material of his shirt making it difficult for Vlad not to just give in and crash his lips to Robin's. Instead he settled for stroking his fingers through the hair at the nape of Robin's neck, nervous excitement flooding through him at the way Robin let his eyes fall shut and tip his head forwards slightly, the grip on his waist tightening. And, then, Robin was brushing their lips together, soft and tentative, over and over again.  
  
Finally, just when Vlad felt sure he'd die of anticipation; Robin increased the pressure and kissed him properly, clutching him tight and keeping him on his feet as the slick swipe of Robin's tongue against his own threatened to make his knees buckle. By the time they pulled apart for air the track had changed again, and the dance floor was teaming around them. He smiled up at Robin shyly and the taller boy took his hand, leading him through the crowd and back to their table.

* * *

"Aw, look at them, Auntie Elisabeth," the bride was back grinning down at them. "Don't they look cute?" Vlad glanced up at Robin – who looked embarrassed but otherwise unmoved – before settling his head back against Robin's shoulder, the other boy's arm wrapped around him possessively. He was so comfortable he never wanted to move again.

"Cute?" Ian said, pulling a face, "That's Robin you're talking about."  
  
Vlad sought Robin's free hand out with his own and twined their fingers together. Robin was cute, so cute he could barely think straight half the time.  
  
"It'll be them two next, Uncle G," the best man said, oblivious to the drink he was spilling over Ian's favourite shirt. Everyone looked at them, waiting for Robin's protest to the contrary. Nobody was more surprised than Vlad when Robin pressed a kiss to his temple,  
  
"Yeah," Robin squeezed his hand, "Yeah, it will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	82. Robin / Vlad, middle ages AU.

"Every man has his station in life, Robin," Mr. Branagh said, tugging on his soiled work tunic. "And you are destined to follow in my footsteps. To perform the same job as my father, and his father, and his father before him."  
  
Robin wrinkled his nose as the twins emerged from the darkened corner of their hut, similarly attired. They seemed entirely oblivious to the smell, laughing and joking about which of them the pretty daughter of John the Reeve – who owned his own donkey, three goats  _and_  a pig – would consent to marry. He snorted; as if either of them stood a chance.  
  
Mr. Branagh, fastening his work belt, went on, "All this talk of leaving the village and wanting," he waved a hand as if it might encourage the flow of words, "more. Well, it isn't natural." Mr. Branagh shook his head. "Some men are born into this world to be great kings, noble knights, pious monks… But the likes of me and you," he fixed his scowling son with a pointed look, "can only pray for the Lord to burden us with enough work to make us appreciate the glory of the afterlife."  
  
"What you're saying," Robin said, glaring at his sister – old enough and comely enough to be wed and out of his way – who was sniggering behind her cupped hand, "is that I 'ave to dig ditches until I'm lucky enough to drop dead?"  
  
"That's the spirit, Robin!" Mr. Branagh clapped him on the shoulder. "Go and tell your mother not to worry, and that we'll be back by nightfall, before you come and join us."

* * *

"This is so exciting, Vlad!" The Count beamed at his son, "Tonight you will bite your first peasant. You never forget your first; when I was – "

"Nobody is interested in your pathetic attempts at vampirism," Ingrid said disdainfully, not bothering to look up from her carefully transcribed copy of 'St. Patrick's Purgatory'. "The peasants couldn't fear you any less if they tried."  
  
The Count grimaced, "Silence, you ungrateful wench! I should have had you hanged for a witch when I still had chance."  
  
Ingrid shrugged nonchantly, "Pity, that."  
  
"Dad," Vlad cut in, trying to ease the situation, "couldn't I just have a sort-of  _practice_  bite tonight? I mean, there's no rush is there? The peasants will all still be there tomorrow."  
  
"Now that's where you're wrong," Ingrid smirked, smoothing out the creases in her blood red kirtle as she stood. "Don't wait up." She grinned, flashing a hint of pearly white fang before disappearing.  
  
"Good riddance!" The Count yelled uselessly to thin air. Vlad just heaved a sigh. How he envied the peasants their normality.

* * *

"Help!" Robin shivered, trying to gain a grip on the slippery sides of the ditch wall, "Ian! Paul! Can anyone hear me!" Cold, wet and exhausted, he gave up, sliding down to sit against the solid mud.

He hoped this was some prank of the twins' and that they would emerge at any moment, and pull him up and out. He could endure their taunting and laughing if it meant he got to go home to hearth and broth. The thought of food made him still more miserable. What if he was stuck in the ditch all night? His stomach growled in protest.  
  
The cry of a wolf sounded across the still night air and it was all he could to suppress another shiver. Suddenly the tales of strange creatures that prowled the darker hours no longer seemed so enthralling. He almost wished he'd heeded old Van Helsing's warnings on listening to them in the first place. But, then, Van Helsing was not at all right in the mind so, what did he know?  
  
Wrapping his arms about himself as a bat swooped through the air above him. It could be a very long night.

* * *

"Ingrid!" Vlad hissed, gaze travelling from his sister to the two teenagers stood in front of her, slack jawed and eyes glazed. "What are you doing?"

His sister sneered at him, obviously irritated; "What does it look like I'm doing, zombie snot? I'm trying to feed."  
  
Vlad shook his head. "There's a perfectly edible sheep over there. You can't just go around killing people."  
  
"They'll be glad of it," Ingrid said, assuming her 'I know everything there is to know about everything pose', "Do you know what the peasants say in that ridiculous rhyme of theirs?" Vlad kept quiet; he didn't know. " _I have wished after death full oft_."  
  
"Yeah," Vlad said sarcastically, at least he knew the quote, "and then they generally say 'Although I would have fled him now.'"  
  
Ingrid shrugged, "I don't care either way."  
  
Before she could lower her head again Vlad squirmed in front of her, protecting the peasant she had under her spell, "I'm not going to let you hurt them."  
  
Ingrid stared him down for long moment, but he kept his gaze steady and, finally, she backed down. "Fine. I'll take the sheep. But you owe me."

* * *

Vlad, having watched the boys awake and return to the path, was about to leave when he heard scuffling. He kept still and strained his ears for the faint noise, following it to the edge of a deep ditch. Carefully, he peered over the edge.

It was another boy. But this one, although dressed in rags, looked like no peasant he had ever seen. His skin was so pale it seemed to glow in the moonlight. He could have been a crowned prince from the story books his father didn't like him to read or, he thought, another such as himself. The boy shifted his foot again, the source of the noise he had heard.  
  
Making a decision, Vlad got still closer to the edge, clinging with one hand as he slid down, and landing with a soft thump on his feet.  
  
"That was a stupid thing to do," the boy said indignantly, in an accent so broad Vlad reassessed the likelihood of his being a peasant. "Now we'll both be stuck down 'ere." Vlad didn't answer; he had never been this close to a breather before. He could hear the boy's heartbeat and, in awe, he touched his fingertips to the boy's throat, feeling the rush of blood under his skin.  
  
The boy's eyes widened, but he made no attempt to move away. "Who are you?"  
  
Vlad's gaze flickered from his fingers – and the pulse of blood beneath them – to dark eyes and back again, "Vladimir Dominus Imperitus Dracula. But you can call me Vlad. Who are you?" He finished, meeting the other boy's gaze again.  
  
"Robin," he paused and smiled lopsidedly, "You can call me Robin." Robin's gaze wandered to the ornate fastening of his cape and he arched his neck slightly. "You can, if you want to."  
  
The movement flooded his senses and Vlad clenched his eyes shut for a long moment, fighting against the urge to sink his fangs into the proffered flesh. "You're supposed to be afraid of me," he said, eyes still shut.  
  
"You're supposed to want to bite me," Robin countered, sounding hurt.  
  
"I don't want to bite anyone," Vlad said proudly, not least because he had controlled himself, "I wish I were normal like you."  
  
Robin pulled a face, "You really don't, trust me."  
  
"Vladimir!" A voice rang out.  
  
Vlad grimaced. "That's my dad." He went on miserably, "He says you can't change your destiny."  
  
"Sounds like my dad," Robin said with an air of long suffering.  
  
"Vladimir!"  
  
"I really have to go." Vlad gave the strange breather one last apologetic look before making to flit, only for warm fingers to curl around his forearm. He looked at Robin in shock.  
  
"You're not leaving me 'ere in this ditch!"  
  
Vlad paused, an idea forming as the sound of his father's footsteps came ever closer, and murmured,  
  
"We could always pretend…"

* * *

"What are you so happy about?" Chloe asked, suspiciously.

"Nothing," Robin replied, smiling to himself.  
  
"I thought you'd still be sulking that you can't leave Stokely."  
  
Robin grinned, "Something better's come up." He touched his fingers unthinkingly to the purpling mark on his neck, "Much better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	83. Gen, some Branagh family backstory.

The first time she met him he was ill. She had been running away from home because her mother had told her off again, and there was never anything to do in Stokely. There was never going to be. It was close to dawn and she hadn't made it very far, the ache in her legs already making the plan seem less than ideal.  
  
He had been lying in the long grass of the field, doubled over and coughing. She had been frightened, at first, but that was why all the boys ignored her, because she was a scaredy cat, and made her play on her own or, worse, help their mother. So she screwed up her courage and edged closer carefully, the straps of her satchel digging in her shoulder, waiting for him to stop coughing.  
  
"What's your name?" she asked, because it seemed like a good opening line, and he started in shock before glowering at her, hissing,  
  
"It's none of your business."  
  
She would have left him then, because otherwise she was bound to get caught and be told off, and people without manners made their own misfortune. At least that's what her mother always said. But he started coughing again, desperately, like her friend Margaret had before she was sent home from school and died of the whooping cough.  
  
She ought to help him, she knew. But her parents would be very angry if she were to help the enemy.  
  
"Are you a German?" she asked, uneasily, because he wasn't dressed in the uniforms she was used to. Golden braid and bright blue cloth, muddied with grime and blood, rather than the khaki and the smart blue the RAF wore on the posters at the public air raid shelter.  
  
He laughed, a strange, harsh sound, and said,  
  
"I'm many things. It won't matter once the sun comes up."  
  
"I can fetch you some help."  
  
"No!" He looked frightened at that, wild eyed. "You can't tell anyone."  
  
The sky was streaked pink now with the first rays of dawn, and she made her decision, because they weren't far from her hiding place. He had to crawl more than walk, and she did her best to help though he was so big and heavy. He all but fell against the wall when they made it, both squirming through the half collapsed entrance, and he pulled his knees to his chest, curling out of the shafts of light coming through the gaps in the thatch and the stonework.  
  
It had been a store barn once, but nobody used it now. It was dangerous the adults said, and some of the boys said it was haunted because somebody had died there, a long time ago.  
  
"My name is Eira," she told him because it seemed like the polite thing to do, and gave him the bread and cheese she had stashed in her satchel for the journey. "I'll come back and see you later."  
  
She thought about the stranger all the way through Sunday School, and during her chores and the telling off her father gave her when her mother told him she had gone out on her own that morning. After dinner she managed to sneak away, when the others were listening to the wireless, and took him the scraps she had managed to hide at table, and some water, and he coughed and coughed and coughed and didn't once say thank you.  
  
He was still there the next day though, and the day after. So she sat with him and helped him drink some water, showed him her favourite hair ribbon and asked,  
  
"Why did you come to Stokely?"  
  
"I have to find someone." He said just when she was certain he wasn't going to answer. "I've been searching for centuries."  
  
"My mother says it's not moral to exaggerate," she told him seriously, and he looked at her for a long moment, silent, until he lay back down again on the dirt floor.  
  
"My name is Bertrand."  
  
She took him her sweet ration the next day, but he was gone and there was nothing to say he had ever been there.

* * *

She told her brother about him, and Bill went with their dad to search the old building. There was nothing there, just as she had said, and her mother told her she was very bad, for making up such stories.

It must have been her imagination, she decided, until she saw him again one night when she was walking by herself. She had been eleven then and thought herself terribly grown up and adult. The war had finished and she had been accepted into the grammar school, and always wore her regulation beret even when the other children laughed and jeered at her.  
  
She had stayed behind for extra tuition, because they couldn't afford the books at home, and though she had waited and waited the bus had never come and there had been no choice but to walk home alone in the darkness.  
  
"Did you find them?" She asked because she knew he recognised her. "The person you were looking for."  
  
He gazed at her searchingly, looking for what she couldn't have said, before answering,  
  
"I thought so. But they were only an impostor."  
  
It was cold, winter, and she shivered, wishing she had a thicker coat and that her gloves hadn't become so shabby her mother had had to make them fingerless. He didn't seem to feel it, wasn't even wearing a coat, and she wondered what it must be like to search fruitlessly, on and on and on, like the war had seemed sometimes when the queues never seemed to end and even the ration coupons were useless.  
  
"I could help you look."  
  
He looked incredulous and it stirred something inside her, because she was perfectly capable and one day she was going to be the one in charge and the one everyone had to listen to, like Ellen Wilkinson.  
  
"I shan't offer again," she told him sharply, making to head for home, but he touched her shoulder at the last moment and fell into step beside her.  
  
"Let me walk you, it isn't safe."  
  
The silence was comfortable, rather than oppressive, and when they reached the end of her street he turned to her, expression wistful, and said,  
  
"I appreciate your offer but it is my burden, and I alone must bear it."

* * *

It became tradition, running into him in the cold dark of winter. He never looked any older and every year she asked him if his search was over. It never was. She could tell from the way he spoke, and the way his shoulders slumped sometimes that he thought it never would be.

"Would it be so very awful if you never found them?" She asked when she was fourteen, swinging her legs where they sat on the old boundary wall, looking up at the castle, silhouetted in the moonlight.  
  
She watched him closely, at the way he closed his eyes for a moment, as if pained.  
  
"They have to be out there."  
  
It was futile, nonsense, but she couldn't help but fixate on him that year, wasting her time on silly daydreams where he would wait for her, until she was old enough to make him see that he didn't need to keep searching.  
  
She thought of him in classes, and with her friends, and when she turned down Ted Branagh's offer to take her to the Plaza, though her mother scolded her for being arrogant, and for thinking too highly of herself.  
  
She wore her best dress that year, and her mother's nylons and make-up. He never came, though she waited until it started raining, and when she got home Bill teased her mercilessly and her mother struck her for stealing. She cried herself to sleep that night but in the morning the truth was clear.  
  
It was time to leave childish things behind now. She was too old for them.

* * *

The last time she saw him she was ill. She had been running away from home because  _he_  had hit her for the last time, though it was cold and wet and she had no money, and no idea what she was going to do or where she was going.

Her mother had said she should have accepted Ted because he was such a nice boy, and his parents were ever so respectable. She had wanted more. She had wanted to get away from Stokely.  
  
Now the baby was nearly here and her only hope was to talk Bill into convincing their mother to take her back. She swiped at her face, pulled her coat closer around her, and stumbled forward blindly through the overgrown woodland, hoping that Stokely wasn't so very far away.  
  
He was stood in a clearing, eyes wild, and when a flash of lightening streaked across the sky she could see that the blood streaked across his face wasn't his own, and his teeth were sharpened, like a monster's.  
  
She screamed, couldn't help it, and tried to run, laddering her stockings on the scrub and scratching her hands and bruised face on low lying branches. She risked a glance over her shoulder, only to run straight into him, and he held her by the shoulders, firmly, until she stopped screaming.  
  
"Are you going to kill me?" She whispered eventually, clutching at her stomach and wondering if perhaps it wouldn't be better all around, because what sort of life would either of them have without a marriage certificate.  
  
He didn't say anything, just tilted her chin up with one long fingered hand and then there was nothing but darkness until a voice was calling her name, and she opened her eyes to find herself lying at the bottom of Castle Hill in daylight, with Ted Branagh crouched beside her.  
  
"Thank God," he said, voice thick, and she looked about herself, confused, and asked,  
  
"Where did he go? What happened?"  
  
Ted just helped her stand, and said she oughtn't to strain herself. He took her hand outside her mother's front door, and touched the fingers of his free hand to the purpling skin of her cheek, jaw tight with restrained emotion, before telling her that the baby wouldn't make any difference, and that his offer still stood, if only she wanted it to.  
  
He called her silly when she told stories of night stalkers to the children, but he always smiled indulgently and when he asked if she regretted marrying him, and staying in Stokely, it surprised her to find that she didn't, though her younger self would never have credited it.  
  
She never forgot him however and, one day, a lifetime later when Robin came to her and told her,  
  
"I've made a friend. He's a vampire."  
  
She smiled at him, fondly, and said,  
  
"I believe you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	84. Robin / Vlad, drabble for prompt 'first/last'.

"I was thinking –"

"Well, they do say there's a first time for everything."

"Shut up."

Vlad smirked into his lunch, waiting for Robin to continue.

"I was thinking, about the camping holiday."

"You want to go?" Vlad grinned, "Aw, it'll be awesome."

Robin shook his head, "Get real, Vlad. I was thinking –"

"We've established that."

"Do you 'ave to make everything so difficult!? I was going to say: do you want to come round while my parents are away, but now –"

Vlad pressed a kiss to his cheek, uncaring of the way everyone stared,

"I'd love to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	85. Drabble, Ingrid Vlad a sisterly shoulder to cry on. Or, er, not.

"Can't say I blame him," Ingrid told him dismissively, leaning against the doorframe and looking around her with a sneer of distaste. "I want to stake myself at the thought of spending ten minutes with you. Even Branagh isn't a total masochist."

"If that's how you feel," Vlad ground out, swiping viciously at his tear stained cheeks, "why are you in my room? Why don't you just go away and leave me alone?"

Ingrid grinned, taking in his blotchy face and red-rimmed eyes. "Because this," she smirked still wider, "is the kind of moment I want to commit to memory."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	86. Robin / Vlad, first person pov.

"Robin!"  
  
It's like a foghorn blaring up through the floorboards. If foghorns could form actual words, were women and, you know, had a Welsh accent. She's got the stamina a foghorn though, my mam. Wait for it. Three, two, one…  
  
"Robin!"  
  
See, what did I tell you? It's like this every morning. She wants me to get up and get ready for school, I want to stay in bed and pretend school doesn't exist. This sums up the fundamental tension in our mother – son relationship. We don't want the same things.  
  
"Robin! Vlad's at the door!"  
  
That's the cue to actually move if I don't want another lecture from old Peterson when I finally do get to school.  
  
Some people get out of bed when their alarm clock starts ringing. I only move when Vlad's at the door. He's always early anyway; I reckon he does it on purpose so he can make calf eyes at my sister. Or my brother. You can never tell with Vlad, he plays his cards close to his chest on that front.  
  
Vlad's been my best mate for years, ever since he shipped up in this dump of a town from deepest darkest Transylvania. Bistrita at any rate. I knot my tie in front of the mirror and picture Vlad shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot downstairs, answering my dad's pointless questions about spelling tests and the state of the council's bin collection.  
  
That's my dad for you.  
  
"Robin! You're going to be late!"  
  
This is the one that means I really need to shift. One last touch up to the hair, shrug into the coat, shoulder the bag and that's it. Ready to face another day of hell on earth.  
  


  
"So, come on then," I say round a mouthful of toast, giving Vlad a friendly elbow to the ribs, "spit it out. Which one of the twins 'ave you got your eye on?"  
  
Vlad screws his face up, all indignant outrage at the suggestion. I like it when he does that, makes him look like a right nit. When I point it out to him, he just does it all the more.  
  
"I don't fancy your brothers."  
  
"I never said you did." Vlad looks all confused and I have to fight to keep the smile off my face. He's so easy to wind up. "I asked which one you fancied," now I am grinning, "that's brother in the singular, and you know it."  
  
"You're an idiot."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Vlad scowls the rest of the way to school and I wonder if I might not have pushed him a bit far. He's having a rough time of it at the moment, more than the usual spots, girls and parental trauma (trust me, I could write a book on that). Because the thing you'd never realise from just looking at Vlad is that he's a vampire.  
  
Seriously.  
  
And not one of those sparkly family-friendly types either. His dad is Count Dracula.  _The_ Count Dracula. Not that you'd know it. Vlad's about as vampiric as Duckula. We're working on it.  
  
Thing is, we haven't got long left. Vlad's turning sixteen in a fortnight and then it'll be too late. I've tried asking him if there's anything he wants to do before becoming a member of the undead. Personally I'd be over the moon if I could never go to school again, with fangs and bat wings into the bargain. Vlad gets a bit funny about it all.  
  
I even caught him writing some shockingly bad poetry about sunlight and heartbeats the other day. Worse than his usual fare, and that's saying something. There's only one explanation I can think of. He's obviously got a crush on someone. And, because I'm such a good mate, I've made it my mission to find out who and get him palmed off on them to swap spit while he still can.  
  
A modern day Mother Theresa, I am.  
  
"Are you coming to chess club at lunchtime?" Vlad asks as we reach the school gates – proving he can't hold a grudge for longer than seven minutes – and I shake my head with this sort of world weariness.  
  
We've still got a long way to go.  
  


  
School grinds along the same way it always does. History, Biology, Art (the only highlight in an otherwise wrist cutting worthy timetable), Maths and English. There's something about having English last lesson that really does make you want to chuck yourself out of the nearest window. It seems to drag on for hours and hours.  
  
We all sit there in enforced silence and read books by dead people that nobody really likes anyway. I mean, when you ask someone what their favourite book is they don't turn round and say 'An Inspector Calls', do they?  
  
I end up feeling jealous of the girl who tops herself, at least she doesn't have to sit and read the bloody thing.  
  
By the time the bell rings my brain is seconds away from dribbling out through my ears. That's what school does to you, robs you of any enthusiasm you might have had for the subject. Unless you're my little sister. Or Vlad. They're both swots of the militant variety though so it's no use comparing yourself to them.  
  
I loiter about in the corridor waiting for Vlad to emerge from his own English classroom. We used to be in the same class but Mrs. Evans who does the timetables split us up deliberately in year 10 because I was being a bad influence on him. Apparently. My dad believed her at any rate; it took him three weeks to forget about stopping my pocket money.  
  
When Vlad does emerge he's looking more miserable than usual. I get this urge to comb his fringe down over one eye and leave him to it. I don't though because I'm a nice guy. And Vlad needs reminding that, if he ever needs to bite someone to keep him eternal company, I'd be an awesome choice.  
  
"Cheer up," I say, one hand on his shoulder to get him moving, "I've got good news for you."  
  
"There's no such thing."  
  
I give him this look then, all scolding. There's only room for one pessimist in a friendship, that's the way it works. I took the role years ago, we can't switch now.  
  
"Yes, there is. I have hooked you up with a hot date for tonight." So, okay, she's really kind of average but, well, beggars can't be choosers.  
  
Instead of the gushing thanks I've been expecting Vlad looks like I've just told him I've arranged for him to be tied down and have bamboo needles wedged under his fingernails.  
  
"What did you do that for! I can't go out with some girl!" We're on the ground floor now and Vlad drags me into the boys' bathroom. I'm glad there's nobody around to witness it. We've got enough trouble with that rumour already. He pre-empts my 'why not?', opening his mouth wide and pressing the pads of his fingers to his pointy teeth.  
  
They hadn't looked like that yesterday.  
  
"Awesome!" I tell him, taking a step closer and swiping my own thumb against the point. I'm just wondering how much pressure it'll take to break skin when it dawns on me the situation is kind of weird. Even accounting for the fangs. I've got a thumb in his mouth, fingers cupping his cheek, and he's giving me this wide-eyed look. I feel myself blushing, prickly heat trailing down my neck, Vlad's gaze going with it.  
  
Footsteps clatter along the corridor outside and I pull away, coughing and fidgeting with my backpack in an attempt to look nonchalant. Vlad doesn't say anything all the way home, just gives me the same calf eyed look I always imagine him giving my sister in the mornings every time he thinks I'm not looking.  
  
It's a lot to get my head around.  
  
"Are you going to see this girl then?" I ask awkwardly when we're halfway home. I wonder what Vlad would do with her. His favourite pastimes are moping about and complaining about his dad. It's why we get on so well. Somehow I don't think Ashleigh is the kind of girl who will be impressed by it.  
  
I don't realise my stomach's all screwed up with the hope he'll say no until he's actually said it. My whole body goes limp with the relief. Vlad stops walking and bites at his lip, it looks weird with the way his fangs stick out.  
  
"I thought you might want to come round, hang out a bit." He gives me a calculating look, all cunning through his eyelashes, "Or, if you're busy, I can always see what your brothers are doing."  
  
It takes a few seconds to sink in, and then I'm grinning alongside him. Nervous tension fading in and out every few steps. He smiles back, toothily, and I'm certain of it.  
  
There's hope for him yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	87. Ingrid plays matchmaker.

"Not chicken, are you Branagh?"

"No!" Robin protested, glancing from Vlad to Ingrid and back again, expression a mixture of horror and resignation.

"Well, what are you waiting for then?" Ingrid smirked, folding her arms across her chest. "Get on with it."

"It  _is_  a dare," Robin explained then, apologetically. Vlad didn't get chance to respond because Robin didn't waste any time, crushing their mouths together with all the finesse of a battering ram, pulling away quickly and swiping the back of his hand across his face.

Ingrid just grinned at Vlad,

"Don't say I never do anything for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	88. Robin / Vlad, request fill.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> josephtbr prompted ~ Vlad slips Robin a vampire aphrodisiac in an attempt to make him understand how he feels.

" _Where_  have you been?"

Vlad froze. He should have known he wouldn't get away with it. Nothing ever got past Ingrid.

"No, don't tell me," she cast a derisive eye over him from her seat at the dining room table. "You've been stalking Branagh again."

"I'm not stalking him!"

Ingrid raised an eyebrow. "You're sneaking into his bedroom in the dead of night and doing I don't even want to know what to his unconscious form."

Vlad scowled and slumped down into the seat opposite her. Put like that it did sound a bit suspect. It wasn't though. He did have some self-control. Aloud he said,

"I just like to make sure he's okay, that's all."

"I bet you do," Ingrid said sarcastically, flicking through the magazine in front of her – Vlad felt his stomach churn at the sight of dismemberment as the page turn. "And I'm sure Branagh would appreciate it," she grinned nastily, "if he knew anything about it."

Vlad just scowled harder.

 

* * *

 

Later he lay staring at the lid of his coffin, wishing he could stop thinking about Robin and go to sleep. He wouldn't mind being able to stop thinking about Robin full stop, if truth were told.

Stop dreaming of Robin's crooked smile during Minister Tschetter's speeches, and stop dropping in to watch him sleep on the way back from Transylvania. Ingrid was right. It  _was_  pathetic.

It wouldn't be so bad, he thought, if Robin wasn't so completely and utterly oblivious. He half wanted to get caught, imagining it was his favourite way to get through committee meetings. He would be reaching over, stroking Robin's hair away from his forehead and Robin would open his eyes. Vlad would freeze, his heart trying to kickstart in his chest with the shock, then Robin's eyes would fill with recognition and he'd smile up at him. Welcoming.

Vlad squirmed at the mental image, the back of his neck prickling with sudden heat. And, really, any thought of necks was a bad idea because now all he could think of was Robin's neck. Even in school he'd been enamoured of Robin's neck.

In English he had had to sit behind Robin and, by the time he was forced to drop out, it had been a constant battle not to just lean across the table and latch onto the taunting expanse of skin visible over the collar of Robin's school shirt.

He shifted again, tangled in his shroud, and there was a loud bang – as if someone were thumping a fist down against his coffin lid.

"You'd better not be doing anything you shouldn't in there!"

Ingrid's footsteps echoed across the crypt and Vlad buried his face in his pillow. He hated living at home.

 

* * *

 

"What do you think then, Vlad?" Robin grinned at him eagerly the next time they met up, holding out his forearm for inspection. "How cool is that?"

Vlad jumped at the excuse to sit closer, shifting along the sofa until their sides were almost pressed together. He peered at Robin's arm carefully, at the swirling colours and the tender skin beneath. He wondered suddenly if there had been any blood and had to look away.

"Did it hurt?"

"Nah. Well," Robin looked sheepish, "Maybe, a bit. It was worth it though."

"Has your dad seen it yet?"

Robin gave him an incredulous look, leaning back and shaking his head. "Nothing gets past him – you know what he's like. He's been snooping round in my room again too. My art folder was all rearranged."

Vlad kept quiet. He'd known he should have been more careful putting that back.

"I cannot wait until I can move out," Robin told him, tone world weary. It was like a light bulb flickering into life above Vlad's head.

This was, without doubt, the greatest idea he had ever had.

 

* * *

 

It was the  _worst_  idea he had ever had. If it had been hard to stop thinking about Robin, now it was impossible. It was a relief to go to Council and not have to physically restrain himself from reaching out and touching.

Robin was as clueless as ever to the effect he was having on him, wandering around the place half naked and stroking his long pale fingers up the length of his throat, asking Vlad if he thought he should get inked there too.

With displays like that, Vlad wanted to tell him, he was hard pushed to think of  _anything_.

He had tried to broach the subject with Robin, to tell him that he didn't want to just be flatmates, or even best mates. But every time he chickened out, too afraid of Robin's reaction. When he had originally told Robin that he thought he preferred boys it had taken ages before Robin began acting normally around him again.

And that had only been after he had reassured Robin he didn't like him  _that_  way.

He didn't think he could bear it if he had to go through that again, Robin flinching away from him when he got too close, and glancing at him nervously whenever he thought he wasn't looking.

Ingrid commented on his dismal failure to make any headway the instant she next saw him,

"You should just hypnotise him and be done with it," she advised, "Get it out of your system."

"I don't want to hypnotise him!" Vlad scowled, Ingrid always knew just how to wind him up. "I just want him to understand how unfair he's being." Vlad dragged a hand through his hair, he felt constantly on edge. Lovesick. "It's driving me insane."

"You are looking more repulsive than you usually do," Ingrid told him calmly, taking in the dark circles under his eyes and his freshly dishevelled hair. Vlad shot her a withering look and made to get up and visit his dad down in the crypt. He'd scarcely done more than think about moving when Ingrid sat up straighter, snapping her fingers and grinning evilly.

"Leave it to me."

 

* * *

 

Vlad looked around the room in trepidation. There were thick cobwebs covering almost everything, and every time he moved  _something_  crunched underfoot. Robin would love it.

Robin was the reason he was here.

"Your hand, Your Grandness." The wizened old vampire's voice was surprisingly deep and commanding, and Vlad was holding his hand out before he'd even had chance to consider it. Cool fingers slid up the skin of his wrist, the blade of the knife glinting as it was pressed to the pads of his fingers.

A single drop fell into the bowl and his wrist was released. Vlad sucked his fingers into his mouth, the blood tasted differently to how it did fresh he decided.

"This isn't going to turn him or anything, is it?" The murky liquid had turned a rich red, like wine, and Vlad wondered how he was supposed to get Robin to drink it. He wasn't that sophisticated.

"Certainly not, Your Grandness," the old man chuckled, siphoning the liquid into a glass vial and handing it over. "Just be careful. That," he eyed the vial pointedly, "is powerful stuff."

 

* * *

 

"Are you 'aving someone round?" Robin asked the following evening, frowning at the wine bottle and glasses laid out on the coffee table.

Vlad shook his head. Keep things simple, that's what Ingrid had said. Robin, she had been quick to point out, would drink anything so long as it wasn't him paying for it. It had seemed like sound advice at the time.

"I thought we could have a night in, I'm not working." Vlad pulled his ace, "We can watch Dracula." He stopped himself just in time from saying 'again'. Robin must know it word for word by now, he thought to himself as he waited anxiously for Robin's response. For a long moment he thought Robin was going to say no, but then his face lit up in a smile and Vlad felt a wave of relief wash over him.

Only to be replaced seconds later with enough nervous tension to make him feel sick. He couldn't really go through with this, could he? It was no better than hypnotism, not really. And, he knew with sudden certainty, mouth going dry as he watched Robin drop down onto the sofa and grab the bottle and the corkscrew, he would never be able to turn Robin away.

That was the plan. Robin would drink the stuff and it would drive him wild, hyper aware of every move he made. It would make him want him desperately. And Vlad would say no. Then, the next day, he would say that Ingrid had given him the wine and they would have a reason to talk about it all. He would tell Robin that that was how he felt every single second he spent in his company, and Robin would tell him he had always loved him and snog him senseless.

Okay, so maybe that last was wishful thinking but, at the very least, Robin would realise he couldn't help liking him and would start wearing a shirt around the flat.

Robin pulled the cork free and sloshed the dark liquid into first one glass, and then the other, handing him a glass with a grin. "Cheers!"

Vlad sipped at it; it wouldn't affect him. It was his own blood – or at least as close as it would ever get to being his own – making up the potion. He watched intently, waiting for Robin to do the same. The glass was pressed to Robin's lips, and Vlad's fingers tightened around the stem of his own glass. This was it.

And then there was banging at the door.

Robin clunked the glass back down, sighing. "Bloody typical."

 

* * *

 

"What's all this!?" Paul exclaimed, scooping up Robin's untouched glass and sitting down in his space. "Red wine? Right poncy pair of poofters, ain't you?" He drank a large mouthful. "No offence Vladdo."

Ian sat down next to his brother, side squeezed tight against Vlad. "Any more going spare?"

Robin glared at the pair of them. "What do you want?"

"Don't be like that, Robin," Ian said, in a less than sincere tone, "Can't we come and visit our favourite little brother?"

"Mam wanted us to check up on you," Paul elaborated, taking another long gulp of wine. Robin pulled a face and pushed a pile of magazines from the only other chair in the room, dropping into it sulkily.

Paul drained the glass and went about pouring another, and Vlad put his face into his hand.

This was a disaster.

 

* * *

 

Vlad smiled awkwardly, no idea what to do. Robin had stormed off to his room, taking offence to his brothers' comments on his latest piece of body art. Ian sighed, standing and swiping his jacket from the back of the sofa.

"Touchy little sod, he's getting," he complained, shrugging into the jacket. "Right, well, I'm off to meet Becky. You coming, Paul?"

Paul shook his head, "Nah, not yet, bruv."

Ian looked surprised, but shrugged it off all the same. "Suit yourself."

Before the door had even shut Vlad knew he was in trouble. There was hot breath in his ear and Vlad shivered in spite of himself.

"You're looking nice tonight."

Paul's eyes were wide and dilated, focussed on his lips as he slid one hand along Vlad's cheek. Vlad pressed back against the wall.

"You're looking really nice."

He suddenly understood why Paul didn't have a girlfriend.

And, then, there was mouth on his, tongue pushing wetly into his mouth. Vlad kissed back instinctively, the  _heat_  of it mind blowing. Hands pushed at the hem of his shirt, trailing up his sides, and the solid weight of another body pressed against him. He pushed his own hands into Paul's hair, anchoring him in place.

Dimly it occurred to him that if he couldn't find the willpower to push Paul away, he would never have been able to resist Robin for longer than half a second.

"Vlad."

He forced his eyes open, surprised at how like Robin Paul sounded. What he saw made him jerk away from Paul, guilt sinking low in his stomach.

Robin was staring at him, disbelief written across his face and Vlad felt sick. Paul, oblivious, tried to kiss him again, and Robin stormed from the room for the second time that night.

 

* * *

 

"I'm so sorry, Robin," were the first words out of his mouth the following morning. "I'm really  _really_  sorry."

"What 'ave you got to be sorry for?" Robin asked frostily, refusing to even look at him. "If you want to shag my brother, that's your own business."

"I  _don't_  want to shag Paul!" Vlad protested, frustration making his voice rise. Why couldn't Robin see what was in front of his face?

"Yeah," Robin sneered, "It really looked like that, an' all. The way you were sucking his face off."

Vlad wanted to explain, start from the beginning and tell Robin the whole sorry affair, but he didn't get chance. Robin took one look at him, grabbed his jacket, and slammed out into the mid morning sun.

 

* * *

 

It was late afternoon and Robin still hadn't returned. Vlad felt restless, irritated. It was cowardly to just disappear all day, when he knew full well Vlad couldn't follow him. He was sat in Robin's room, staring at the wall, when there was a knock at the door. For a moment he debated not moving, let Robin stay outside and suffer. If he'd forgotten his door key, that was his problem.

There was another knock and Vlad got up. He'd always been a pushover when it came to Robin. When he opened the door however it wasn't Robin stood awkwardly on the doorstep.

It was Paul.

He'd obviously come straight from rugby practice and Vlad had to force himself to keep his eyes on the other man's face as he let him in.

"About yesterday," Paul started, fidgeting uncharacteristically, "I dunno what came over me. The drink…" He trailed off.

"It's alright," Vlad said as levelly as he could. They both knew it would have taken a lot more than a couple of glasses of wine for the alcohol to start to have  _any_  effect on Paul.

"You're not, ah," Paul tried again, "you're not going to tell anyone, are you?"

"I won't," Paul didn't have chance to enjoy the feeling of relief as Vlad went on, "But I can't speak for Robin."

Robin chose that moment to slam in through the front door. His eyes were bleary, as if he had been drinking.

"Well ain't this cozy?"

 

* * *

 

"You're drunk," Vlad accused, glad Paul had had the sense to make himself scarce. He got the impression they wouldn't be getting any more unannounced visits for a while.

"'m not drunk." Robin smiled mirthlessly. "'m merry."

Vlad glanced at his watch. He was going to be late for Council if he didn't leave within the next five minutes. Still, he sighed and sat next to Robin. This had to be done. "Paul wanted to know if you'd told anyone." He swallowed his pride, "Please don't, Robin."

Robin smirked, "What's in it for me?"

"Don't be such an idiot," Vlad felt his temper rising. If it got out he'd done this he'd never live it down. His dad would hear about it, and he'd find out about the potion, and The Sunblock would tell everyone he couldn't even practice what he preached. "He was just drunk. It didn't mean anything."

"So," Robin fixed him with an intense look, enough to make Vlad forget why he was supposed to be annoyed. "If I kissed you now it wouldn't mean anything?"

"That would be different." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"Why's that then?"

Robin was suddenly a lot closer, one hand dropping to Vlad's arm. Vlad was glad he was already sat down; his knees didn't feel strong enough to be able to support him. He couldn't have answered if his unlife depended on it. Robin shifted closer still, until their noses were almost bumping.

"It might not mean anything to you, Vlad," the words were breathy, and Vlad squirmed under the focussed attention, "but it would to me."

With that his watch alarm started beeping and Robin pulled away, shaking his head. Vlad got the feeling he had just been dismissed.

 

* * *

 

He thought of Robin's declaration all through Council, the intricacies of the proposed Trans-Siberian Marital Property bill falling on deaf ears. Of what it could mean. Of what he hoped it meant.

When he got in he went straight to Robin's room, ignoring the inviting prospect of his coffin and the possibility of getting some sleep, and knocked sharply at the door. Robin squinted at him when he opened it, hair sticking in all directions.

"We need to talk."

Robin gestured for him to come in. Vlad sat on the edge of Robin's bed nervously, going over and over in his head what he had planned to say. Robin got in first,

"I don't think this is working. I've spoken to my mam about it, and she says I can move back in."  
Vlad gaped. " _What!?_ "

Robin shrugged, not meeting his eye, "It'll be for the best."

"For who?" Vlad persisted. "This is stupid; I already told you there's nothing going on between me and Paul."

"You just don't get it, do you?" Robin was visibly agitated, pacing the room. Vlad couldn't help but fixate on the expanse of pale collarbone visible underneath Robin's half buttoned shirt. "If you don't fancy me, well, that's your loss. But snogging my brother in front of me? That's just not on, Vlad." Robin seemed to run out of steam, looking at him grimly. "It's not fair."

Vlad scarcely dared to believe his ears. "What do you mean, it's not fair?"

"You know what I mean," Robin told him, folding his arms across his chest.

"If you're talking about you not bothering to mention any of this to me, and letting me spend the last few  _years_  trailing round after you like a lovesick puppy – " Vlad was getting into it now, registering the way Robin's eyes widened with satisfaction " – Letting me make a total idiot of myself trying to show you how I felt. Then, yeah," he nodded viciously, "I'd say that was pretty unfair."

He was on his own feet now, in front of Robin, the other boy staring back at him in shock. Then there were hands on his shoulder, Robin's eyes soft.

"The wine an' that?" Robin asked. He broke out into a grin then, Vlad's stomach twisting hopefully at the sight of it. "Vlad, you don't need to put all that effort in to make an idiot of yourself. You  _are_  an idiot."

"Shut up," Vlad shot back, grinning in spite of himself.

"Make me."

Vlad pulled the taller boy down until their lips were almost touching,

"You asked for it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	89. Robin / Vlad, prom night.

"As you all know, the 'prom'," Mr. Jenkins hooked his fingers in the air, "is this Saturday. May I remind you that, firstly, there  _is_  a dress code. And,  _yes_ , it does apply to you too, Price."

Price tugged at the front of his track jacket with both hands, in a 'what of it' gesture. Mr. Jenkins rolled his eyes.

"Secondly, the tickets are for you and a date. If you haven't managed to find one, tough, the difference is non-refundable."

Jenkins strode from the room, leaving everyone to talk excitedly amongst their selves.

"Who are you bringing then, Branagh?" Price leaned over the back of his chair, smirking at Davis before continuing, "Your sister?" They both fell about laughing.

"No. I 'ave a date. A really fit date,  _actually_."

"Yeah, right! Nobody'd be seen dead with you."

"Wait and see, Price. Wait and see."

* * *

"Vlad, please! You 'ave to help me!"

Vlad looked up from his letter writing (' _Mrs. Von Karstein, I was very concerned to hear of your complaints regarding Clause B of the new 'Be Polite, don't Bite' policy. Please be assured that we are doing everything within our power to work through these initial teething problems…'_ ). "Just ask someone from school."

"You know nobody from school would go to the prom with me." Vlad shrugged slightly in agreement. "It doesn't 'ave to be Ingrid. You must know loads of fit women, from the Council and stuff. Just set me up with one for  _one_  night. I'm begging you, Vlad."

Vlad sighed and leaned back in his chair. Robin plastered his 'I'm your best friend, you love me' smile across his face.

Vlad shook his head, "Oh,  _alright_. I'll see what I can do."

Robin grinned gratefully. "Thanks, Vlad; you're the greatest."

* * *

"This one?" Robin held up a black shirt with red piping on the collar and cuffs, "or this one?" He replaced it with a black shirt with upturned crosses on the collar wings.

Chloe folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. "It won't make much of a difference, Robin. You're still going to look like a loser."

"Thank you  _so_  much, Chloe." Robin responded sarcastically. "Anyway, Vlad says the girl he's found me is hot. I won't look like such a loser with a fit vampire on my arm, will I?"

"Robin," Chloe sighed, "you could turn up with Rachel Bilson and you'd still look like a loser."

"Whatever. I don't need your help."

Chloe was just outside her bedroom door when the cry she'd been waiting for came. "But, er, could I borrow your hair straighteners for a bit?"

* * *

"Hi, Ingrid."

Ingrid wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Vlad!"

Vlad emerged in the doorway, wearing a well cut black suit and a red silk shirt.

" _Nice_  outfit."

"Thanks." Vlad grinned at him.

"So, where's my date then?" Robin tried to peer round Vlad into the castle.

"Here."

Robin looked around him. "Where?"

Vlad made a gesture at himself. " _Here_."

"Oh. My. God."

* * *

"Oh no, I can see Price. That's it, we  _cannot_  go in there!"

"Robin, calm down. You said you wanted a fit date; I didn't have anything planned for this evening. What's the problem?"

"What's the problem!" Robin hissed. "I'll tell you what the problem is Vlad. I'm a guy, you're also, if it hasn't escaped your notice, a guy. Do you know what that means?"

Vlad looked at him placidly.

"It means," Robin flung his arms out in exasperation, "that I'm going to look really really  _really_  gay!"

"Boys," Mr. Jenkins approached them from his post on the door, "are you going in or not? I haven't got all night to stand around listening to Branagh whining."

Vlad nodded and handed the ticket over, strolling into the hall like he hadn't just been having a blazing argument with his supposed date. Robin glowered and sputtered and pulled at his hair in frustration before, finally, giving in and following Vlad inside.

* * *

"Aye aye." Price nudged Davis as they walked in, within moments the entire hall was void of chatter, every eye on Robin and Vlad.

"Thought you'd topped yourself, Count." Price looked him up and down; scowling at the interested look  _his_  date was giving Vlad.

"So, is this your 'fit' date then, Branagh? Is Count your _boyfriend_?" Davis snickered.

Robin tried to think up something plausible and or witty - either one would be good - but Vlad was too quick. "Yeah, I am actually." He looked around menacingly. "Anyone got a problem with that?"

Price shrugged but Davis looked away.

Vlad smirked nastily. "I didn't think so."

* * *

"I can't believe you did this to me, Vlad." Robin stared at his non-alcoholic beer miserably. "You're supposed to be my best friend." He looked up at Vlad accusingly. "I just wanted to look cool for one night. Just one  _poxy_  night. Is that really so much to ask?"

Vlad's expression grew serious and he touched Robin's arm. "Is it really that bad?"

Robin jerked his arm away. " _Yes_ , Vlad, it is!  _You_ don't know what it's like!" He looked away to hide the beginning of tears; this was the worst night of his life. He continued angrily,

"It's alright for you because ' _Vladdo the Saddo'_  magically transformed into ' _Vlad the Irresistible'_  when you turned sixteen. Me." He turned back to Vlad and jabbed a finger at his own chest viciously. "I'm going to be ' _Branagh the freak'_  for the rest of my life!"

With that he pushed back from the table and stormed off in the direction of the toilets. He might be a loser, but he was not going to cry in front of  _anyone_.

* * *

By the time he re-emerged his puffy eyes looked almost normal. He started to make for the bar, with the intention of salvaging what little credibility he had left, only to find Vlad waiting for him in the corridor.

"Not now, Vlad."

Vlad stepped in front of him, holding his arms gently. "Just hear me out, Robin. Please."

Robin sighed but made no attempt to escape.

"When you asked me to find you a date, I thought of loads of girls who'd be happy to go with you." Robin snickered bitterly, what an obvious lie. "But," Vlad dragged a hand through his hair, looking more like the nervous boy he'd once been, "I was selfish. _I_  wanted to go with you."

Robin scowled at him. "If you'd wanted to come, Vlad, I could have got you your own ticket. You only had to ask."

"No." Vlad bit his lip for a moment. " _I_  wanted to go  _with_  you. Do you see what I'm saying?"

The door from the hall opened and Robin stayed silent as two girls went past, staring at them curiously and giggling. Once they were gone he looked at Vlad bleakly.

"What did you think I was going to do?" He asked quietly. "Be so happy someone liked me I'd fall straight into your arms?" Vlad didn't answer and Robin looked down at his hands. "I just – I need to think about this, Vlad."

He pushed his way through the hall, and made his way outside, his head reeling.

* * *

He didn't know how long he'd been outside, but he was shivering with cold by the time a touch to his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Vlad carrying two plastic cups. Vlad sat down next to him and handed him one.

"I'm really sorry, Robin." Vlad looked straight ahead. "It was a stupid thing to do. I know you don't like me like  _that_  and – and now I've ruined your prom."

Robin swirled the liquid round his cup. "Nah, it would 'ave been rubbish anyway." He took a deep swallow, more for the distraction than anything else. "At least they think I can pull  _someone_ now." He sighed. "Even if it is you."

"You called me ' _Vlad the Irresistible'_  earlier."

Vlad was trying for his usual cool confidence but Robin could see it was a front. He wondered just how much of Vlad's bragging and posturing over the last few months had been nothing but a front.

"Yeah, I did, didn't I?"

Robin put the cup down carefully. He'd been thinking about Vlad's confession. About what it meant. About what it  _could_  mean, if he let it. It wasn't even as if he'd ever really thought about Vlad like that before and, yet, the idea was nowhere near as repulsive as he thought it probably  _should_  be.

He swallowed nervously and placed a hand over Vlad's, hoping Vlad could take it from there because he wasn't sure he had the nerve. Vlad stared at him, eyes wide, for a long moment before whispering, "Robin, are you sure?"

Robin nodded, not trusting his voice. Vlad set his own cup down clumsily, sliding his newly free hand along Robin's jaw. His gaze was dark and intense, and Robin was no longer certain if he was shivering from cold or anticipation.

The kiss, when it came, was soft and hard and cold and hot all at the same time and, when Vlad pulled back, to study his reaction with careful eyes, Robin was only slightly terrified to realise he wanted to do it again. Vlad smiled at him reassuringly and stood, tugging Robin to his feet.

"Come on, it won't be a proper prom 'til we go and dance."

* * *

Later, pressed close against Vlad as the soppy last few records were played, basking in the envious glances he was getting – at least he hadn't lied, Vlad  _was_  pretty fit - Robin decided that he'd been overly hasty in his judgement.

Tonight was, in fact, shaping up to be probably the  _best_  night of his entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	90. Robin & Vlad, school days gen.

"Tuck your shirt in, boy!"

Vlad glanced down the line, then back at Robin. "He's going to go mad." Robin shrugged, keeping his gaze straight ahead.

"Price, where's your blazer? In your bag? Well, put it on then!"

He should have known Robin still wouldn't be speaking to him. He was good at that, Robin. Mrs. Branagh always said he could sulk for Wales. Vlad thought she didn't give him enough credit.

It was too late to do anything about it now, anyway.

"Branagh," Jenkins paused in front of them, eyeing Robin up and down in distaste, "What's your excuse? Come on, let's hear it."

There was no way he could lie about it, Vlad thought, glancing down at the state of Robin's school trousers, still sodden below the knee.

"I fell in the pond, Sir."

Jenkins looked like he was barely restraining himself from wrapping his hands around Robin's throat. Vlad could sympathise. Robin's throat was pretty irresistible.

"What," Jenkins paused, for emphasis, "were you doing near the pond, Branagh? You know full well it's off limits."

Vlad peered at Robin curiously; this was part of the story he had yet to hear. Knowing Robin – and  _nobody_  knew Robin better than he did – he'd probably been looking for more frogs to dissect during maths, grasshoppers to pull the legs off of in the middle of business studies.

"Price pushed him, innit Sir?" Someone piped up, sniggering.

"I never did nothing, Sir!" Price protested.

"You don't get this with top set," Jenkins muttered, before striding back towards the classroom door. "Right, year ten, get in, sit down. Price, Branagh, put your planners on my desk." His voice brightened, "I think detention is in order."

"Aw, what!?"

Vlad hung back from Price's bad mood, giving Robin his full attention. "Is that true, did he push you?"

Robin shrugged, again. Vlad thought of cavemen.

"You should have told me."

"What could you 'ave done about it?" Robin snapped, slapping his week planner down onto Jenkins' desk as they shuffled towards their seats. Vlad flashed him a smile, certain the scowl would be wiped off Robin's face soon enough.

There was a clatter behind them, the room erupting in laughter. "Price," Jenkins called, slamming the door behind them, "How many times I have told you about swinging on that chair!? See me after the lesson."

Vlad grinned, "Not so useless now, am I?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	91. Robin / Vlad, who needs ID?

[ _Monday_ ]

"I'm not saying it won't be difficult, but it's not just the breathers who will benefit from the policy – "

"Vlad?"

Vlad looked up to see Robin stood in his doorway; apparently knocking was a concept he had never heard of.

"Oh sorry, didn't realise you had company."

Vlad blushed at the insinuation in Robin's tone and, mindful of what his guest might report back to the Council about his conduct, got up from his desk to introduce them properly,

"Robin, this is Tatiana. She's a liaison from the F.Right party." Vlad cast Robin a glare he hoped the other would interpret as 'so please do not annoy her in any way.' Satisfied he'd got his point across he motioned at Robin, "And this is Robin. He's my best friend."

"Robin,  _so_  nice to meet you," Anya purred.

Robin was already smiling dopily at her and Vlad heaved a sigh.

"Call me Ana, please."

Robin took her hand and kissed it in a move he'd obviously nicked right out of a vintage Hammer film. "The pleasure's all mine, Ana."

Ana glanced at Vlad's stricken expression for a moment before giving Robin a small smile.

"Vlad, you never said you had such charming and  _handsome_  friends."

 

* * *

 

"She wants me, Vlad."

"Is that meant to be a joke? What would she want you for?"

"For my hot body?" Robin grinned and raised his eyebrows lecherously.

" _Right,"_ Vlad shook his head incredulously. "For the hot gush of your blood as she sinks her fangs into your neck, more like."

"You're just jealous."

Vlad crossed his arms and scowled harder. "No, I'm not."

"Yes," Robin stopped fussing with his hair in the mirror to face him, "you are. If you had it your way we'd probably be holding hands in the cinema, and wearing matching anoraks. Anything to make sure I never get a girlfriend."

Vlad sputtered. "That's not true!" He looked away to hide the blush that said otherwise. "I just don't want you to get your hopes up. Tatiana  _is_  like 300 years old."

Robin smirked. "That's alright; I like older women." He looked at his watch. "Look, I've got to go. Tell her I said 'bye' though, yeah?"

"I don't think so," Vlad muttered bitterly as he watched Robin leave.

 

* * *

 

[ _Wednesday_ ]

"So, Ana, are you doing anything this weekend? It's just I've got a spare ticket for the  _Bullet for my Valentine_  gig."

"You said  _I_  could go to that with you!" Vlad protested from the other side of the dining room. Robin scowled at him but otherwise ignored the outburst.

Ana pulled a face. "They are terrible. Commercial."

"Oh yeah, I know," Robin said hurriedly. "Don't know why I've even got tickets, they're rubbish."

Vlad put down the file he was supposed to be reading and rested his chin on one hand, as if he were pondering something carefully. "But I thought they were your favourite band, Robin? Your bedroom walls are covered in their posters."

"I've got two, Vlad. And, anyway, that's just for a joke!" Robin glared at him.

"Yeah, but you've been to see them before, haven't you?"

"'Ave I? Can't really remember now, must 'ave been ages ago."

"It was last month. Your fourth time, wasn't it?" Robin looked like he wouldn't have minded throttling Vlad but Ana chose that moment to speak.

"This looks acceptable." She pointed to an advert in the back of the Stokely Chronicle for a local club night. "You may take me there."

Robin smiled sweetly at her before grinning at Vlad in triumph.

 

* * *

 

"How areyougoing to take her to  _Pulse_?" Vlad asked once Ana had gone down to the guest crypt, folding his arms smugly. "You aren't even old enough to get in."

"Yeah, well, that's where I thought you'd come in. You could just hypnotise the bouncer or something."

"Yeah, I  _could_."

Robin grinned at him.

"But, I'm not going to."

The grin fell.

"You're not still upset, are you? Look, she's bound to 'ave a friend you can go with. It could be a double date."

"Are you mad?" Vlad shook his head. "No, don't answer that."

"I don't know why you're being like this."

"I'm just saying it's a bit suspicious, isn't it? Tatiana's one of the most sought after vampiresses in the whole of Europe and you're, well," Vlad motioned at Robin, "you."

"Right, thanks a lot, Vlad." Robin started gathering his stuff together noisily.

"I didn't mean it like that."

Robin's only response was to slam the door harder than usual on the way out.

 

* * *

 

"Aw, what's wrong wiv little Vladdy waddy? Is he sad because breather boy wouldn't touch him wiv a barge pole?"

"Go away, Ingrid." Vlad growled, hastily swiping at his eyes and shoving Mr. Cuddles' misshapen form behind his pillow. If Ingrid found out he still had him she would neverlet him live it down.

"Alright bat breath, keep your hair on."

Ingrid sat next to him. She sneered as she took in his tear stained cheeks.

"If it bothers you this much, why don't you just tell her to back off? Or, you could just show her your diary and she'll be so disgusted she'll be winging it back to Transylvania the moment the sun's set." Ingrid held one hand out to inspect her manicure. "It made  _me_  sick reading page after page of your pathetic lovesick drivel."

"Ingrid! That's private!"

Ingrid shrugged. "And I care because?"

Vlad sighed. "It won't make any difference what I say to her. He doesn't like me."

"You really are the world's biggest loser."

Vlad looked at her sharply.

"You're  _supposed_ to be the Grand High Vampire. If you stopped acting like a complete wimpire – you know actually tell him - you might stand a chance."

"I'm  _not_ a wimpire!"

Ingrid stood to leave, pointing at Mr. Cuddles' badly mended arm which was sticking out over the top of his pillow. "Vlad, you still sleep with a soft toy." She made a 'W' with her hands, " _Wimpire_."

 

* * *

 

[ _Friday Night_ ]

"How do I look?"

"As repulsive as you normally do." Ingrid said, turning her attention back to the latest issue of  _Gothmopolitan_.

"Like a prince, Vlad," The Count said, taking in the predominance of black with approval. "What's the special occasion? Draining the blood of an orgy of peasants?"

" _No_." Vlad patted his pockets, checking he hadn't forgotten anything. "I'm going clubbing."

Ingrid flung her magazine down. "Now this I have to see. Just wait there two minutes."

 

* * *

 

"So you changed your mind then?"

Vlad nodded dumbly, not quite trusting himself to speak. Robin was looking especially appealing in his button down shirt and tight jeans, his cheeks tinged pink from the cold night air.

"It'll be awesome, Vlad! Us and the two fittest girls in Stokely." He motioned in front of them to where Ingrid and Ana were glaring cattily at each other.

"Yeah, brilliant." They shuffled forward. "One of them's my sister and the other thinks I'd be of more use as dust." He paused. "Actually, Ingrid probably thinks that too."

"You're not going to whinge all night, are you?"

Vlad scowled. "You won't know, will you? You're not going to get in."

"That's where you're wrong." Robin waved a card in front of his face.

"Is that," Vlad peered closer, "Paul's driving licence?"

"Yep."

"They'll never fall for it!"

Robin sighed, like he was trying to explain something to a particularly stupid child, "Of course they will."

And, much to Vlad's disgust, they did, the bouncer waving Robin, Ingrid and Ana inside. Vlad hypnotised the guy impatiently and scurried after them.

 

* * *

 

"What's your name?"

"Huh?" Vlad asked, his attention on trying to catch a glimpse of Robin through the throng of people. Robin and Ana had made straight for the dance floor, and Ingrid was surrounded by swarms of smitten admirers, leaving him to fend off the advances of what seemed like half of Stokely.

"I said, what's your name?"

"Vlad," He answered distractedly, shifting slightly so he could better see Robin. He was pressed close to Ana. Vlad looked away, Ingrid's 'wimpire' comments ringing in his head.

"I'm Kelsey." The girl pushed closer to him, taking his hand and pressing it against her hip.

Vlad removed it and took a long swallow from the bottle in his other hand. When he looked back in Robin's direction it was to see him kissing Ana. He started making for the bar, oblivious to Kelsey's protests. He needed more drink.

 

* * *

 

[ _Meanwhile_ ]

"Aw, come  _on_. I'm his  _twin_  brother."

"Sorry, no I.D., no entry. That's the way it is."

"What's going on here?" A tall man with harsh features pushed through the queue, nobody making any attempt to stop him.

The bouncer looked at him apprehensively. "He's," he gestured at Paul, "not got any I.D."

The man turned to Paul, fixing him with a gaze that made him squirm. "You know Vladimir, don't you?"

Paul shared a look with Ian before answering, "Yeah, he's like best friends with my weirdo brother, why?"

"That's good enough for me. I may well  _need_  you later." The man stared at the bouncer for a moment. "There's no problem here."

The bouncer repeated slowly, "No problem."

Ian and Paul shared another look before shrugging and following the guy inside.

 

* * *

 

"Vlad," Ingrid sneered at him, "are you drunk?"

"No!" Vlad swayed slightly, clinging to the bar with one hand. "Maybe a little."

" _Freak_." She clicked her fingers and the barman dropped his order to come to her. "I'll have a vodka and coke." She glanced at Vlad in disgust. "And a glass of water for  _him_."

She took the drinks, without paying, and steered Vlad to an empty sofa. He slumped into it gratefully. "Here, drink this." Vlad sipped at the water dutifully.

"I don't know what she sees in him."

Vlad followed Ingrid's gaze to where Ana and Robin were still pressed tight together, moving in time to the deafening chart music. Vlad sniffed; in all the time he'd known him Robin had never made any attempt to listen to anything that didn't involve screaming or growling. Or both.

"I don't know what he sees in her." He swallowed the last of his water. "Half her face is plastic."

"Harsh," Ingrid said, but smiled approvingly. "Isn't that," She turned to him, eyes suddenly wide, "Minister Tschetter?"

Vlad looked over to where a tall imposing figure had joined Ana and sighed heavily. "Yes."

 

* * *

 

"Ingrid!" exclaimed Paul.

" _Ingrid_." Sighed Ian.

"Not now, losers." Ingrid pushed past them, Vlad trailing behind her. The twins shared a look before following.

"Which way?" Vlad asked once they were outside, scouring the street desperately for a glimpse of Robin. Ana had dragged him a lot faster than they'd been able to follow.

Ingrid inhaled deeply, before answering. "Right."

All four of them made their way down the alley that led round to the back of the club. Vlad motioned for them to stop as the sound of Robin's voice rang out. He peered round the corner cautiously.

Ana had Robin pushed up against the club wall, her fangs glinting in the moon light.

"Look, I, uh, don't think we should do this here. Vlad's on his own and -" Robin's voice rose to an almost squeak, "Okay, maybe we should."

Vlad struggled to control the wave of jealousy that crashed over him. Paul moved behind him, "I can't believe it, Robin's actually pulled!"

"And she's pretty fit, too."

Vlad glared at them but it was too late.

"Vladimir." Tschetter stepped out from the shadows. "Nice of you to join us. Ana was just about to make a meal out of your little friend. And," He looked pointedly at the twins, "I see you've brought afters along."

Paul nudged Ian, " _Kinky_."

Ian grinned.

Robin's eyes went wide, his face paling. Ana slid one hand into his hair and yanked hard, pulling him in front of Vlad. Robin squirmed against her hold, "You said you liked me."

"Please," Ana rolled her eyes, "you're a disgusting little breather."

Ingrid nodded slightly, you couldn't argue with that.

"Vlad, on the other hand, thinks you're  _beautiful_  and that your smile is like the touch of  _sunshine_  in his dark dismal existence."

Vlad cringed; was there anybody in Stokely who  _hadn't_  read his diary?

"So," Tschetter took Ana's place, trailing long fingernails down Robin's throat, "think how upset he's been watching you with Ana. Think how upset he'd be if you were to meet with a little accident." He smiled at Vlad coldly. "What would you do to save him, Dracula? Repeal the new constitution? Hand over the crown?"

He pushed Robin back against the wall, holding him in place with a hand squeezed around his throat. "Think about it very," Tschetter increased the pressure, "carefully."

"Okay," Paul spoke, "this is getting a bit weird."

Ingrid rolled her eyes. "You two," the twins focussed on her intently, "go and get my coat from the cloakroom." They both grinned in joy and ran back up the alleyway. "Right," she looked at Vlad, "now they're out of the way, let's show these two what happens to vampires who are stupid enough to mess with a Dracula."

Vlad smirked, taking the piece of crate she handed him.

"On three. One, two – "

They simultaneously staked both vampires.

Ingrid dropped the wood and dusted her hands off, grinning evilly. "Three."

 

* * *

 

"I'm really sorry, Vlad."

"It's alright." Vlad swabbed the bloody crescent marks on Robin's neck with antiseptic, forcibly clamping down on the desire to use his tongue instead.

"No, it's not." Robin laid his hand on Vlad's arm, making the other boy look at him. "I acted like an idiot. I should 'ave seen what she was trying to do. It's like you said, she would never 'ave been interested in me."

Vlad extracted his arm carefully. "Just leave it, okay? It doesn't matter."

Robin picked at a loose thread on Vlad's bedspread. Vlad asked himself for the thousandth time why he had brought Robin back to his bedroom when he looked like that. As if it wasn't hard enough to keep away from him already.

"Was it true what she said, Vlad? Do you really think I'm _handsome_  and all that?"

Vlad tried to act normally and put the first aid kit away. Tried to not fling himself at Robin's feet and beg him to still be his friend. He managed it. Just.

Robin continued, "Because if you did – an', I mean, who wouldn't? – "

Vlad couldn't suppress a small smile as Robin's usual big-headedness shone through.

"Well," Robin grew quiet, "it wouldn't be a bad thing."

Vlad turned, studying Robin carefully. "And what if I wanted us to hold hands in the cinema and wear matching anoraks?" He felt bad for throwing Robin's words back in his face but he couldn't bear for Robin to offer something he couldn't deliver.

Robin stood, taking one if his hands in his own, "Well, I'd have to meet you 'alfway." He smiled at Vlad. "I don't do anoraks."

 

* * *

 

[ _Elsewhere_ ]

"Well, you two have been surprisingly acceptable company. Perhaps you do have more than half a brain cell between you after all." Ingrid regarded them coolly as they came to a halt outside the Branaghs'.

The twins beamed.

"Do you want to come in, Ingrid?" asked Ian.

"For coffee." Added Paul.

"Eugh,  _no_!" Ingrid scowled at them. "Do I look desperate? I said you were acceptable, not desirable."

She stormed off in the direction of the castle. The twins shrugged.

"Women," sighed Paul.

" _Women_ ," agreed Ian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	92. Robin / Vlad, based on that ep where Chloe says Robin doesn't want to end up begging on the streets for money.

"So this is where you're living?" Chloe asked sniffily, her pretty nose upturned as she stepped over a bundle of soiled clothing. Robin shrugged,  
  
"What do you want, Chloe?"  
  
He hadn't seen her in months, and then she had been sat in the public gallery, watching as he was sentenced to yet another conditional discharge. He had probably been a help to her in a way; she'd got to see all the practicalities of the court room. You couldn't learn that from a textbook.  
  
Chloe shook her head, raking her penetrating gaze over his thin frame and unwashed hair. "You just don't want to be helped, do you?" Her tone was harsh and accusing, "Do you have any idea what you're putting Mum through?"  
  
"Mum?" He mocked, pouncing on her anglicised pronunciation. "I'm surprised you 'ave time to notice. Tell me, what does Tarquin think of it all?"  
  
She looked hurt, eyes bright, and he turned away, fixing his attention on the unglazed window instead. It wasn't Chloe's fault, any of it. He should be glad she'd found a way out of Stokely. Should think himself lucky that she cared enough to track him down. He couldn't though, no matter how he tried.  
  
"Terence thinks you're a waste of space. Sometimes I think he's right."  
  
Robin flinched and bit at his lower lip. He didn't want to hear it.  
  
"You still have a home. You don't have to live like this."  
  
"I can't go back," the words were quiet but the force behind them was clear all the same. "Terence is right. I am a waste of space. Tell Mam to just forget about me. Maybe I'll end up on the front page like the rest of them, do everyone a favour."  
  
The colour drained from Chloe's face, her make-up stark against her too pale skin. "You don't mean that, Robin." He didn't answer her and the silence stretched out between them. He glanced down at the newspaper strewing the floor, mysterious disappearances and bodies found drained of blood. He wondered how long it would take before they identified him when it was his turn. If they ever would.  
  
"Fine," Chloe snapped finally, shattering the quiet around them, time seeming to move once more. She reached into her handbag and took out her purse, removing a handful of notes and holding them out to him. "Take it."  
  
"I don't want your money."  
  
They stared each other down for a long moment, neither willing to give in. She kept at it, no matter what he did. Sat in the uncomfortable plastic chairs when he was inside, and brought him food and money when he was back out on the streets again. Just when he thought that, this time, he had succeeded in convincing her she was wasting her time, Chloe threw the notes to the ground.  
  
"You know where I am."

* * *

It was dark by the time he made a decision, hands clenched into his hair as he looked at the money neatly stacked in front of him. He wanted to change, he did. But it gnawed at him from the inside. A marrow deep ache that never subsided. There was scuffling from the floor below and he snatched the pile into one bony hand, hid it deep within his pocket and clattered down the filthy stairwell.

He was beyond help now.  
  
His fingers shook as he handed the money over, the knowing smirk a sign that he had failed. He had always known he would. He didn't have the willpower. He stumbled into the alcove, slumping gratefully against one algae slick wall as the powder worked its way into his system.  
  
It wasn't that it made him forget. He'd forgotten enough already, great gaping holes in his mind where everything he had been ought to be. It wasn't that it made him remember. Although, sometimes, he felt it wisping around the edges of his consciousness, faces in his periphery vision.  
  
It performed the miracle and made him simply not care about it.  
  
Mam would be disappointed if she could see him, he knew. That was why he had left in the first place. So she wouldn't have to watch what he was doing to himself.  
  
It was better that way.  
  
His vision was swimming in and out of clarity, and at first he thought the noise was in his head. It wasn't though, he could tell. Turned his head until his cheek was resting against the damp roughness of the wall. Squinted into the darkness, trying to focus on the sound.  
  
It took three attempts to get one foot to move in front of the other, limbs languid and slow as he shuffled forward. The sounds were louder now, but muted too. Like he had his head underwater. Maybe he did. The thought made him laugh and the noise stopped, nothing but his own laughter ringing in his head.  
  
"I said, stay back!" The voice was harsh and panicked, and he couldn't tell if it was directed at him or not. The laughter was making his head ache and, when he tried to shake his head to make it stop, the entire world went black.

* * *

"He's too much of a soft touch. If they want to kill, it's not our place to intervene."

"What, and have the slayers on to all of us? He's got the right idea, I reckon. His predecessor wouldn't have stood for it either."  
  
"Aye, but that were different. They wouldn't have dared do it then."  
  
"It's waking up."  
  
"Should we tell him?"  
  
"You shouldn't have to ask." This voice was different, low and threatening. "Leave now, both of you."  
  
Cool fingers brushed across his forehead and Robin tried to open his eyes. The pain in his skull was awful, his clothes soaked through with sweat. This was why he wasn't supposed to do it. It was always easier to remember now, in the aftermath.  
  
"Shh," the voice soothed, tone utterly changed, "It's okay. Everything's going to be okay. You should sleep."  
  
It sounded like a lie, because nothing was ever okay. Not in the memories he still had, at least. But the words kept coming, crooning the same thing over and over, and the cold at his temples took his mind off the never ending ache.  
  
"You should sleep," the voice told him again, at once as familiar as it was foreign.  
  
He did.  
  
Next time he awoke he was convinced it was night, the room dark and silent. On closer inspection however he could see a strip of daylight beneath the heavy drapes, and the sound of traffic was discernable, an echo from the world outside.  
  
His head was still pounding, and his skin felt slick and clammy. He attempted to sit up and jumped – startled – to find his hand entwined with someone else's. The stranger's head was resting against the side of the sofa he found himself sprawled upon, soft brown hair framing his ghostly white face.  
  
Junkie, he supposed; why else would they be sharing oxygen like that. The alternative made his chest constrict with fear, although it wouldn't be the first time he'd done it. What he'd told Chloe had only been a half lie. He didn't  _need_  her money.  
  
He wriggled his fingers experimentally, dismayed at the way the grip tightened further. Blue eyes met his own, bright with recognition his own did not reflect. "Robin?"  
  
Robin ran over the options in his mind. There was nothing threatening in the man's tone but that could change. He knew that from experience.  
  
"I'm not going to hurt you," the man soothed, reading more in his face than Robin was comfortable with. "You might not believe it yet, but you can trust me."  
  
That, at least, was something he knew how to answer.  
  
"I can't trust anyone."

* * *

The bathroom was sparse and cramped, and the medicine cabinet was empty. The water ran black against the white ceramic and, as the spray beat against his shoulders, Robin conceded that maybe he needed help more than he wanted to admit.

His muscles were aching from the cramps, and his arms shook when he attempted to wash his hair, but it wasn't as awful as the time before and he wondered if the stranger had given him anything. Then he immediately stopped wondering because, if he had, it would be something more he owed him.  
  
Being in debt was never a good idea, he had learned that the hard way.  
  
There were towels and clean clothes left for him, and unease made his stomach churn. He had nothing to give in return; no money, no score. There were needles littering the coffee table in the living room, and he clutched at his arms to ward off a sudden chill. This wasn't some drop in hostel, taking him in out of the kindness of their bleeding liberal hearts.  
  
The man, Robin realised that he still didn't know his name, trailed after him and swept the mess into a bag, not meeting his eye. "It's not what you think."  
  
"I don't think anything."  
  
He was weighed up then, searching gaze lingering on him until he squirmed uncomfortably. "I would never have done it if I'd known this is what would happen."  
  
The words made no sense, nothing clear except the sincerity behind them. Robin gave him a searching look of his own, deciding that, really, he had nothing more to lose.  
  
"We all make mistakes."  
  
Something passed over the other man's face, regret written all across his oddly delicate features. "But only some of us get the chance to put them right."

* * *

"How's Chloe?" He was asked later, the blue eyes watching him fondly as he ate like he hadn't for a month. Robin choked mid swallow, coughing and spluttering until a surprisingly forceful hand clapped across his back.

"How do you know Chloe?" Robin couldn't keep the suspicion from his voice. It was one thing for him to be here, to be breaking bread with the enemy – and everyone was the enemy – and signing his life away. He wouldn't drag Chloe into it though. He hadn't been through everything he'd been through to mess up her life too. "I don't even know who you are."  
  
"You really don't, do you?" The stranger's tone was soft with disbelief. "I thought-" He pressed a hand across his eyes, no hint of the commanding figure who had had lackeys grovelling at his feet not twenty minutes previously. "-it doesn't matter what I thought." He held a hand out to him, and Robin saw that it shook slightly. "My name is Vlad."  
  
"Vlad." Robin tried it out, the word feeling strangely comforting in his mouth, although he ignored the outstretched hand.  
  
"You have no idea," Vlad told him, and Robin noticed for the first time he hadn't eaten a thing, "how often I have dreamt of you saying my name."  
  
He didn't know what to say to that, didn't think there was anything suitable.  
  
"Should I know who you are?" He asked finally, more than half afraid of the answer.  
  
He was given another mirthless smile and Vlad stood in one graceful movement. "It's alright, sleep now. I'll be back before sunrise."

* * *

"Vlad," he murmured under his breath. "Vlad." It pulled at something within him, at the dark expanses of nothing where his memories once were. His Mam had taken him to see a dozen doctors and they had all told him exactly the same thing. That there was absolutely nothing they could do about it.

He remembered, at last, what he had been told of those lost months. Perhaps he had underestimated its ability to make him forget. Vlad had been his best friend, his mother had said. Vlad had been his only friend, the twins had sniggered. It had never seemed fair that fate should have taken a friend from him, not when other people had friends to spare.  
  
Robin clenched his eyes shut and scrabbled blindly beyond that. Fingers gliding through half formed thoughts as he strained desperately to remember something for himself, not just a memory donated by someone else. Blue eyes, he thought, but remembered black. Dark and heated, and the glint of sharp white teeth. His hands clenched into nervous fists at his side and he wondered if, perhaps, he had remembered too much.  
  
The sky was streaked with the first tinges of pink when Vlad returned, and Robin watched from the sofa, knees pulled up to his chest, as Vlad drew the curtains closed with one sharp movement. He was wearing leather, and a cape, the collar of which cast his face in shadows.   
  
Robin thought of the newspaper headlines, and swallowed. It felt like he had spent half his miserable life desperate to know, desperate to remember, and now it was within his reach he was wishing for ignorance.   
  
"When are you going to kill me?" He heard himself ask, even as his gaze travelled the ravaged length of his arms, wondering if it was right he should feel so unafraid of the prospect. Vlad turned to look at him, face unreadable, and, decision made, Robin tipped his head to one side, exposing the length of his neck to the other man's view. "You can, you know. If you want to."  
  
Vlad was at his side in an instant, and Robin couldn't look away from his overbright gaze, from Vlad's obvious discomfort. "You said that to me when we first met," Vlad said finally, voice strained. Robin couldn't be sure either way, but it felt right. Right enough to tell Vlad,  
  
"I believe you."  
  
"I'm so sorry, Robin," Vlad said in response, "So so sorry." The intensity of his gaze was too much, and Robin had to look away, though he didn't resist when Vlad took his hand and entwined it with his own ice cold fingers. "I won't leave you again. I'm going to make it up to you."  
  
They sat in silence for a long time, nothing but the ticking of a clock and the world outside the window, until it made sense to relax against Vlad, to let the tension drain from his body and let Vlad pet at his hair and stare into the middle distance.  
  
"Do you think you'll ever be able to forgive me?" Vlad whispered, eventually, more to himself than to an audience, and Robin let the question rattle around his head for a long moment before saying what came to him automatically,  
  
"I do. I trust you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	93. Robin / Vlad, and the twins' dvd collection...

"' _Two buxom and lusty vampire babes drain an orgy of unsuspecting peasants._ '" Paul read the blurb aloud before grinning widely, "Awesome!"

"I – "

"Robin, it seems we were a little hasty." Ian said, grabbing the case from Paul to look at it himself.

"The thing is –" Vlad tried again, biting his lip nervously. Why couldn't his life, just for once, not be one endless drama?

"Don't worry." Paul glanced at Ian who nodded. "This," he waved the DVD case around, "says you two are invited." And with that the two of them disappeared down the school hallway, squabbling over who was going to watch it first.

"Aw wicked, Vlad. This is going to be  _so_  cool."

"Robin!" Vlad snapped. "Don't you see what this means?"

Robin frowned at him in confusion. "Yeah. We get to go to Ian and Paul's party."

"No! It means everyone is going to know what I am."

"Aw, come on Vlad, everyone watches stuff like that. It's normal. It won't make you go blind or anything. Besides," Robin added with a grin, "it's about lusty vampire  _babes_ ; how's anyone going to tell that you really go wild for tall," he stood up straighter, "dark, handsome men?"

Vlad resisted the urge to shake him. "That's not what I meant Robin!" The anger was draining from him, replaced by the unwanted, and all too familiar, feeling of despair. He leant against the wall and let his schoolbag slide to the floor. His dad had been trying to press a collection of 'adult' media on him for weeks now, telling him, with a wave of a hand and no little embarrassment, that he was growing up and young vampires had needs.

Vlad had protested and dumped the magazines straight into the bin. A week later he had found a book left on his bed: ' _An A-Z of Vampiric Intercourse for the Curious Adolescent._ ' That had suffered the same fate. Finally today he'd opened his lunchbox to find a DVD case nestled in the space generally reserved for his sandwiches. The same DVD Robin had just offered to Ian and Paul as 'entertainment' for their party that evening.

Robin came over and leant next to him. "Vlad," he started, brow creased in concentration, "are you trying to tell me that that's not a normal porn movie?"

"That's exactly what I've been trying to tell you. What do you think it meant by 'drain', huh?"

Robin looked apologetic. "Sorry, Vlad."

Vlad just sniffed, he wasn't going to forgive Robin that easily.

"Look," Robin glanced warily up and down the corridor before clasping his hand, "I'll sort it out."

* * *

"Have you got rid of it yet?" Vlad hissed at Robin over the pounding music, moving slightly to let a boy with a bra on his head get past.

Robin shook his head guiltily; "I don't know where they've put it."

"Robin!"

They were distracted by the sound of something smashing: Robin's mum's favourite vase was lying in pieces on the floor, murky water seeping into the plush cream carpet.

"Mam's going to kill them."

Vlad thought she would probably have a good go at it. Mr. and Mrs. Branagh were visiting Robin's grandparents for the weekend; Chloe had gone with them. Ian and Paul were using the opportunity to throw the biggest house party Stokely would see all year. They could at least, Vlad thought, have moved some of the breakable stuff out of the way.

Suddenly the music stopped, Ian climbed onto the sofa. "Listen up everyone!" Paul scrambled up next to him. "We have some extra entertainment!" Vlad wondered how much they had had to drink. Paul almost landed face first as he stepped back to the floor. "This had better be good now Robin."

Robin shrugged awkwardly under the scrutiny of a room full of sixth-formers. Vlad scowled.

The twins fiddled with the DVD player for a moment before the image of two scantily clad women, one blonde, the other brunette appeared on the screen. Cheers went up from the boys, groans from the few girls present.

Vlad felt sick; the 'vampire babes' had an unkempt looking man tied to a chair, his face chalky white, eyes bulging in terror. Robin, at least, had the good grace to look ashamed.

On screen the vampiresses advanced on their prey, fangs extending. Vlad heard one of the boys close to him muttering about computer graphics. The growing interest quickly turned to disgust as the brunette put a hand around the man's throat, long nails sinking into his flesh, blood welling up and dripping from the puncture marks.

"Eugh!" was the communal repsonse as the blonde sank her fangs into his neck, blood smeared unattractively all across her dainty features when she raised her head.

"That's gross!" As the brunette bit him from the other side, tears of fear streaking his cheeks. Vlad clenched his eyes shut and wished it was over; in a few minutes everyone was going to know what a freak he really was. He held his breath; one, two, three… Nothing happened. Slowly he opened his eyes.

Blinking at the light he saw that the TV screen was blank and Paul had the disc in his hand, glaring down at Robin who was being held in place by an irate looking Ian.

"Is this your idea of a joke Robin?" Paul asked.

"I – "

"If we'd wanted a  _horror_  film we would have said so!" Ian growled.

"You're such a weirdo!" The guy with the bra on his head protested.

"Right that's it." Ian let go of Robin. "Scram!"

Paul glared at Vlad pointedly. "Both of you."

 

* * *

 

Half hour later they were sat on Vlad's bed, the smell of melted plastic lingering in the air.

"I'm really sorry, Vlad."

Vlad relented and smiled at Robin. "It's alright." He leaned back on his elbows, "I can't believe they didn't realise what it was."

" _Sure as boy scouts sing round campfires; not everyone believes in vampires_." Robin rolled over so he could look down at Vlad.

Vlad waited, Robin looked like he wanted to say something else.

"Vlad?" Robin began cautiously. "Is that…" he struggled to find a way to phrase it. "Is that what you think about when you – you know?"

Vlad watched as a blush spread across Robin's cheeks and wondered if he should be honest. Fidgeting with the edge of his blanket Vlad avoided meeting Robin's gaze as he spoke. "Not exactly. Sometimes, though, I think about biting you." His voice dropped to almost a whisper. "But it's not like  _that_." He shut his eyes at the memory of the look of fear on the man's face as those two vampires advanced on him. "You." He took a deep breath. "You  _want_  me to do it."

Vlad felt a blush stealing down his own neck as he described it to Robin. "You beg me." He forced himself to look at the other boy; Robin was looking down at him with the weirdest look on his face. Vlad panicked. "But I'd never really do it!" He reassured. "I, just, think about it sometimes."

"I know." Robin's voice was lower than usual and Vlad shivered as his dark eyes bore into his own. "But," Robin licked his lips nervously, a movement which had Vlad mesmerised, "couldn't we just  _pretend_ sometimes?"

Later, as Vlad worked at giving Robin the hickey to end all hickeys, the other boy's hands clutching at his shoulders, he wondered if perhaps he ought to thank his dad for his efforts after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	94. Robin / Vlad, camping trip.

"Vlad, I said to get dressed," Robin laughed, looking up from his breakfast and shaking his head.  
  
"Nice knees, Vladdo!" Paul grinned, holding out his hand for Ian to slap it.  
  
Vlad looked down at his bare legs, and swung his backpack onto one shoulder in a violent movement.  
  
"Been taking fashion tips from the Famous Five again, 'ave you?" Robin greeted him round a mouthful of bacon sandwich as he got closer, sniggering.  
  
"Your Dad's wearing shorts," Vlad said stiffly, glad he had thought to put his book in his backpack. Nobody would find it by accident. Not that there was anything wrong with a fifteen year old reading Enid Blyton. Probably.  
  
"Yeah," Robin clapped him on the other shoulder as he stood up, "and he's a sad act." He handed Vlad a sandwich. "Come on then, let's get on with it."  
  
"Be back by nine!" Mr. Branagh called as they started away from the campsite, Ian and Paul behind them on their way to the nearest shop. Robin sighed and rolled his eyes,  
  
"Whatever."

* * *

"You could pretend to be having fun," Vlad ventured as they pushed into the undergrowth.

"But I'm not having fun," Robin scowled.  
  
Shorts had really been a bad idea Vlad thought, rubbing at the newest scratch on his calf. "We could sing a song?"  
  
"No!" Robin turned round to stare at him in horror. "I'm making this sacrifice for you, Vlad, 'cos you want to do," Robin held his hands out as if Vlad had wanted him to make daisy chains with the stars, not spend a day in the open air, " _normal_  stuff. I can't make myself enjoy it as well!"  
  
Vlad sighed and shook his head. If Robin would just stop complaining about the bugs, and the distance, and the burn of the sun on his perfect alabaster skin, then he would have fun. Vlad was sure of it.  
  
"Aw, brilliant," Robin whined sarcastically, Vlad hurrying to catch up with his longer strides. "How are we supposed to get across that?"  
  
It was a river, not particularly fast flowing nor, Vlad peered closer, did it look especially deep. It might as well have been the Red Sea for the expression it inspired on Robin's face. Battling with his map, Vlad gave up and scanned the area, up and down.  
  
"Look!" He gestured further downstream, steadfastly ignoring the way his arm brushed against Robin's heated skin as he did so. The less Robin knew about his other reasoning for wanting to spend a day rambling together, the better. "Stepping stones. We can pick our way across there, if we're careful."  
  
Vlad put the map away in his backpack and they scrambled down the bank, Robin helping him down the last few steps in a show of unexpected gallantry. Vlad was sure he would still be blushing the following morning when Mr. Branagh drove them back to Stokely.  
  
"If I fall in," Robin warned as he balanced precariously on one slippery stone, "I'm going to kill you."  
  
"You won't," Vlad reassured, glancing over his shoulder to check Robin's progress. "We're nearly to the other side."  
  
The words had barely left his mouth when there was an almighty splash and enough cursing to bring a touch of colour to even Granny Westenra's cheeks. Vlad stood stock still, biting at his lip and fighting back the urge to laugh.  
  
"Don't just stand there!" Robin yelled at him, clambering clumsily to his feet, only to slip again. "Help me out!"

* * *

"You could take it off," Vlad ventured nervously, watching as Robin wrung the hem of his T-shirt out, scowling deeply. "Let it dry."

"Are you mad?" Robin snapped at him, the movement sending his wet hair flying. "In this sun? I'll be fried to a crisp!"  
  
Vlad gave him what he hoped was an apologetic smile. Not a look of crushed disappointment that Robin was, in fact, going to remain fully clothed. Robin looked utterly miserable and Vlad felt suddenly guilty.  
  
"We can go back if you want, I don't mind."  
  
Robin sighed. "How much further is it?"  
  
"It should only be about another hour," Vlad said, reaching for the map once more, "See?"  
  
"Yeah," Robin said, the blank look on his face suggesting he had no idea what the map said. "Look," he went on, "We might as well keep going now we've already come this far."  
  
Vlad smiled widely at him.  
  
Robin stretched his leg out in the sun, water seeping from the fabric of his jeans as he did so, making him grimace. "But, before we go anywhere, where's that food you brought?"  
  
Vlad grinned knowingly and dug around in his backpack for the picnic he'd spent a good part of the morning preparing. He handed Robin a package wrapped in tin foil and sat back to watch him eat it, not yet hungry himself. Today wasn't going to be a total loss.

* * *

It ended up taking them another two and half hours to reach the castle ruins. Nothing like the castle at Stokely, or back in Transylvania, there were vines growing in the broken brickwork and only one extant wall.

Still it provided shade against the mid afternoon sun and Robin slumped against it gratefully, suggesting they rest – and eat – before so much as contemplating going back. Vlad conceded happily.  
  
"'Ave I caught the sun?" Robin asked later, sprawled out on his back.  
  
Vlad peered closer, chomping at his apple. "A bit." The freckles on Robin's cheeks were stark against his cheeks, and the bridge of his nose was an angry red. Vlad didn't think there was anything to be gained from telling Robin that. It made him look cute anyway.  
  
"At least my clothes have dried out," Robin yawned. "Do you think we can 'ave a nap before we trek back?"  
  
"Yeah," Vlad checked his wristwatch, "not for too long though." Robin nodded and promptly fell asleep. Vlad shook his head and extracted  _Five Go Off to Camp_  from his bag. They had plenty of time.

* * *

"Vlad, what time is it?"

"What?" Vlad mumbled, not opening his eyes.  
  
"Vlad," Robin shook his arm, "wake up."  
  
"Huh," Vlad blinked up into Robin's face groggily. He moved and the Famous Five slid off his chest. He grimaced as Robin's gaze followed it, he would never live it down. To his surprise Robin didn't even mention it.  
  
"I think we should get started."  
  
Vlad sat up properly, taking in the chill in the air and the changed light quality. He glanced at his watch, 7 o'clock. They would never make it back by nine. "Ring your Dad and tell him we'll be a bit late," he suggested.  
  
Robin nodded and reached for his phone. He looked shocked when his hand came away empty, patting at his every pocket and searching the ground where he had been sleeping.  
  
"Robin?" Vlad asked cautiously, not liking what this meant.  
  
"The river," Robin hissed finally. "It's in that bloody river."

* * *

"Is this even the right way?" Robin asked snidely as they pushed their way back through the woods.

"Yes," Vlad snapped. In truth he had no idea. It all looked the same. "Ow!" He grimaced, stopping to clutch at his leg. There was a deep gash across his back of his right calf; his fingers came away streaked with blood.  
  
"What did I tell you about the outdoors?" Robin asked bitterly, taking the first aid kit Vlad handed him all the same. "Not so much fun now, is it?"  
  
Vlad pulled a face and sat down gingerly on a fallen tree trunk, Robin crouching in front of him and inspecting his leg. Sure fingers traced the skin and Vlad hoped fervently that Robin would interpret his shiver as a result of the increasing cold. Dark eyes met his curiously, even as the bandage was wound around his treacherous limb.  
  
He found himself staring back, unable to pull his gaze away. He imagined what might happen if Robin were to move his hand up his leg, just like – He swallowed, eyes wide, and Robin pulled his hand away as if burnt. He coughed and turned away,  
  
"Right, you're all patched up. Come on, move it."  
  
Vlad got to his feet slowly and willed Robin to turn around and face him. To give him some idea of what was going through the other boy's head. Robin didn't.

* * *

Chloe heard, rather than saw, Ian and Paul approaching the tents.

"She fancied me."  
  
"No, bruv. She obviously fancied me."  
  
"You're blind. She fancied me."  
  
"Boys," Mr. Branagh called, "Go and get ready for dinner. And," he looked up from the saucepan of baked beans he was stirring, "Robin, I don't want a repeat of last night." Plastic spiders, so the lecture had run, were not appropriate additions to a camp meal.  
  
"He's not with us," Ian said.  
  
Paul nudged his brother, "Loads of forests round here, in't there?" Ian looked confused for a moment before grinning and high-fiving Paul.  
  
Mr. Branagh went pale. "But if they're not with you…"  
  
Chloe finished for him, "Then where are they?"

* * *

It was dark by the time Vlad admitted defeat, slumping down to sit on the nearest patch of dry looking ground, wrapping his arms around himself in an attempt to keep warm. "We're lost. I don't know where we are."

"Now you tell me," Robin scowled, throwing himself down next to Vlad. "Fun. That's what you said this would be. I've fallen in a river; I've lost my phone; I'm freezing; I'm starving and – " he pointed at his face angrily, "I'm sunburnt. Do you 'ave any idea how long this will take to go away!"  
  
"I'm sorry, alright!" Vlad shot back. "I didn't know any of this was going to happen." Frowning at his hands he went on, "I just thought it'd be a nice thing to do. This time next year I won't be able to."  
  
Robin shook his head, "Aw, here we go." Vlad turned to glare at him but Robin didn't back down. He raised his voice by an octave or two and simpered, "My name's Vlad and my life is so terrible. I'm only the greatest vampire who ever lived but I'm  _still_  not happy because –"  
  
Vlad prided himself on being placid, on keeping calm where any other vampire would fly into a temper. But, as he was finding out, he had limits. Robin casually mocking his nightmare of a life seemed to be it. Vlad shoved Robin. It wasn't going to make the history books; he'd seen year seven girls conduct more violent fights in the queue at lunchtimes. But it was still more than he had ever done to Robin before.  
  
Robin stared at him in wide-eyed shock for a moment that seemed to stretch on and on and, then, he shoved him back.

* * *

"Do you think they're dead?" Ian asked, mopping up the remnants of his dinner with a piece of bread.

Paul frowned, considering it for a moment, then nodded, "Probably."  
  
"Paul!" Chloe glared at him, inclining her head towards where Mr. Branagh was talking to a uniformed police officer.  
  
"What?" Paul asked, affronted, "They probably are. Either that or they're getting down and dirty on the forest floor."  
  
Chloe just glared harder.

* * *

They were grappling, Robin using his greater height and weight to his advantage. Vlad struggled against him, cheeks flushing with the exertion, and tried to get Robin underneath him. If he could just get the leverage…

Robin shoved him roughly by the shoulders, his back hitting the ground with a force that winded him. Vlad grimaced in pain, all the worse for the triumphant smile across Robin's face. Robin was sprawled on top of him, pinning him down, and it was only belatedly that Vlad realised it really wasn't a situation he should be prolonging.  
  
"Get off me, Robin," He managed to grind out, his voice sounding awkward and strained. Robin was so close he'd barely have to lift his head for their lips to meet. Vlad clenched his eyes shut.  
  
"I know your tactics," Robin shook his head, squirming to find a better position from which to keep Vlad in place. "I'm not going anywhere."  
  
"I won't try anything!" Vlad said, with a hint of desperation. He could feel the blush staining his cheeks working its way down his neck. If Robin didn't move – and soon! – he would want to know what exactly was digging into his hip. "Just get off me!"  
  
For the second time that day Vlad felt the full intensity of Robin's curiosity, could see the moment Robin made the connection in his mind. Vlad wished he had a stake handy and could just disappear into thin air. Literally.  
  
"Vlad?" Robin whispered slowly, gaze raking down the length of his body, then back to his face. Robin's skin looked paler than ever in the moonlight and Vlad could feel the tension spiralling tighter and tighter. It wouldn't matter if Robin punched him or kissed him, part of his brain pleaded, so long as he hurried up about it.  
  
Finally, Robin made his decision, descending on him like something Vlad had only ever seen in movies. He let Robin take the lead, moaning into Robin's mouth at the first slick of the other boy's tongue against his own. The flush swept its way over him in waves as Robin pressed down against him, hands scrambling under the thin material of his T-shirt and up the skin of his thigh.  
  
He was panting and wild by the time the flashlight fell across them, the sound of their names broke through the stillness. Robin broke away from him, guiltily, attempting to straighten out his clothing and his hair. Vlad winced as the heavy crunch of police issue boots brought the officers into the clearing. His hair was full of leaves and he was sure they could tell, just by looking at him, what he and Robin had been doing prior to their arrival.  
  
"Robin Branagh, Vlad Count?" The taller of the two asked. Robin nodded, answering for both of them. "You're lucky," he said. "You could have been stuck out here all night."  
  
Vlad kept his gaze down and clung to his backpack for support as they followed the police back towards civilisation. Robin flashed him the barest hint of a smile and laid a hand on his back. Suddenly it didn't seem anywhere near as bad.

* * *

"You're alive!" Ian greeted them as soon as Mr. Branagh let go of them, lingering anxiety written clear across the older man's face.

"Obviously," Robin scowled, making straight for the food.  
  
Vlad shifted uncomfortably; very aware of the way Paul was taking in the state of his hair and clothes. Robin motioned him over, and he went, glad to have something to do.  
  
"What did I tell you?" He heard Paul say to his brother as Robin handed him a bag of crisps,  
  
"Forests."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	95. Robin / Vlad, 'don't wanna grow up'.

What is this noise!?" The Count howled, emerging in the doorway from the crypt in his dressing gown.   
  
Vlad looked up from the maths homework he was working on with Robin – or for Robin, the latter's input being somewhere between limited and non-existent – and shrugged. "It's Ingrid, she won't turn it down."  
  
Above their heads punk music blared, the vocals snarled and out of tune, the backing track sounded, to Vlad's ears at least, much the same.  
  
"She calls this music?" The Count grimaced. "We didn't have this in my day." He put a hand to his chest, staring wistfully into a past that Vlad was glad he knew little about. "We had real music. The swell of the violin; the echo of the organ; the delicate tones of the harp."  
  
"I prefer this," Robin said, inclining his head upstairs in the direction of Ingrid's room.  
  
The Count scowled. "Yes, well, you would." He raised an eyebrow, catching Vlad's eye with a smirk, "One cannot expect a peasant to have any appreciation for the finer things in death." Vlad just looked away.  
  
Dust shook from the chandelier as Ingrid deemed it still wasn't loud enough and the Count's attention was drawn away from his perpetual mission to encourage Vlad to use Robin as a human shaped juice carton. "Ingrid!" He bellowed, a crack of thunder outside the castle signalling his intense displeasure, and he disappeared upstairs.  
  
"It's so cool how he does that," Robin grinned, slouching back in his seat and throwing his pen down on the table, giving up all pretence of working on quadratic equations.  
  
"Yeah, amazing," Vlad muttered.  
  
"It is," Robin agreed, sighing, "My dad has never done a single cool thing in his entire life."

* * *

"You look," Vlad swallowed, eyes raking up and down Robin's lanky form, "cool." Edible was totally unsuitable he decided. Robin would only misunderstand, anyway.

"Really?" Robin asked, looking less than pleased. He looked down at himself, at the skin tight jeans currently moulding themselves to his long legs. "I'll 'ave to go and get changed now."  
  
"Why?" Vlad frowned, nodding a greeting at the twins as he slid into a seat at the Branagh's kitchen table.  
  
Robin gave him a look that said he should know the answer already. "Because," he said, stressing the syllables as if Vlad were a bit slow, "if you like it, it must be lame." He shook his head, "Look at what you're wearing."  
  
Vlad couldn't see what was wrong with his neat shirt and sweater combo. Old people always commented that he looked very smart. He bet they never said that to Robin.  
  
"He's got sense," Paul said, mouth full of a sandwich, "you're going to do yourself an injury in those."   
  
"Yeah," Ian agreed. "Sit down a bit quick and it'll bring tears to your eyes."  
  
Paul nodded seriously. Robin sneered at both of them and sat down, although Vlad noted he did so gingerly. "What's that?" Robin asked, looking pointedly at the ringbinder in Vlad's hands.  
  
The question shook Vlad out of his reverie – he had been busy admiring the contrast between Robin's dark hair and his unblemished milky skin – and he opened it hurriedly. "Our history project, remember? We really need to start working on it." At Robin's pained expression he glared, "And, no, we can't put it off any longer."  
  
"What's it on?" Paul asked, peering at the project title and aims Vlad had diligently copied out in his best handwriting.  
  
Robin sighed, "Youth culture. We've got to find out what our parents were doing when they were our age." He snorted, "Sat round a campfire singing Ging Gang Goolie, I expect." He gave Vlad a long suffering look, "Nothing's changed there then," A grin curled across his face, enthusiasm suddenly flooding back, "Can't we go and ask your Dad instead?"  
  
"No." Vlad said flatly.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because," Vlad glanced across at the twins' curious faces and lowered his voice, whispering, "It's been nearly 600 years since my Dad was our age. What's that going to look like?" He imitated his Dad's voice, "I spent my days ensconced in my coffin and my nights draining the blood of delectable peasants."  
  
"It'll be more interesting," Robin said.  
  
"Yeah," Vlad answered impatiently, "and we'll both be put on report for messing about."  
  
"Aw, alright," Robin gave in miserably, "but," he fixed Vlad with a despondent gaze, "if we die of boredom, it's your fault."

* * *

"Vlad," Mrs. Branagh smiled up at him as they traipsed into the living room, "You're looking very smart today."

He smiled back at her. Robin turned and gave him a look which suggested this was something he should not be pleased about.  
  
"Yeah," Robin said sarcastically, "anyway, where's Dad? We need to ask you both some questions for school."  
  
"He's been called out on an emergency job." She wrinkled her nose, "It's a nasty blockage, and they can't shift it."  
  
Robin grimaced.  
  
"I can answer them though," Mrs. Branagh went on serenely.  
  
Vlad went to sit next to Robin on the sofa and flicked through his ringbinder for his explanation sheet. He handed it to Mrs. Branagh.  
  
"It won't take long, Mam," Robin told her. "Just tell us a bit about your hippy songs or something and then we're going swimming." Robin nudged Vlad and grinned, "All the girls are going."  
  
Vlad smiled weakly, he couldn't really imagine anything less appealing than spending an afternoon watching Robin ogle a bunch of stupid girls. Even if he was going to be doing it half naked.  
  
To their surprise Mrs. Branagh started laughing. Oblivious to Robin's scowling she got up and started rooting through a cabinet in the corner, pulling out a couple of brightly bound photograph albums. "Your father and I weren't hippies," she said in amusement, flicking through one album with a slightly wistful expression.  
  
Robin gave Vlad a significant glance and muttered, "Even that would 'ave been too cool for them."  
  
"This is what Graham looked like when I met him," Mrs. Branagh said, sliding a photograph free and handing it to them, "Wasn't he handsome?" She grinned at Vlad. Vlad squirmed uncomfortably and glanced nervously at Robin, hoping he hadn't picked up on what Mrs. Branagh seemed to know instinctively about him.  
  
He needn't have worried.  
  
Robin was gaping at the picture in open-mouthed shock. Vlad shifted closer to see it for himself and almost joined him. Were it not for the grainy picture quality, and the fact that Robin had yet to shave his hair into a messy punk style – although Ingrid's current obsession with the genre suggested it might only be a matter of time – the scowling figure could have been Robin.

"But I don't understand," Robin was still looking flabbergasted, "he's such a loser."

"Robin," Mrs. Branagh scolded, "Your dad's not a loser." She took the photograph from his unresisting fingers and stared at it. "You just change as you grow up, that's all. I don't look like I did back then!" She handed them another photograph and Vlad looked up at her in shock.  
  
The girl in the picture, no older than they themselves were, was wearing more make-up than Ingrid would get through in a week, hair spiked out around her head. He glanced at Mrs. Branagh again; he couldn't quite believe it was the same person.  
  
"I was a hellraiser in those days!" Mrs. Branagh went on, oblivious to Robin's wide-eyed incredulity, "I used to go and see all your father's gigs, it took me hours to get my hair like that. It was worth it though, when he noticed me." She grinned, "I lied to him and told him I was 18 so I could drink." She shook her head, "You should have seen your granddad's face when I brought him home for the first time!"  
  
"He was in a band?" Robin sputtered out. "But he listens to Cliff Richard!"

* * *

By the time Mr. Branagh got back from unblocking the toilets of Stokely cinema, Robin had hauled a box full of memorabilia from his parents' youth from the attic - swimming forgotten - and was sifting through it with increasing agitation.

"What's going on here?" Mr. Branagh asked, picking up a record sleeve emblazoned with 'The Revenants' and almost dropping it in surprise. "Where did you find this?"  
  
"In the attic," Robin told him accusingly. "Why 'aven't you ever said anything about all this?"  
  
Mr. Branagh put down his toolbox, the question seeming to barely register. "This brings back some memories," he was taking the record from its sleeve and switching on the hi-fi. The speakers crackled and popped as the needle touched the vinyl, Mr. Branagh adjusting the volume as a snarled, 'Oi! 2, 3, 4!' preceded a riot of badly played guitars.  
  
"Ingrid was playing this," Vlad said in sudden recognition, "yesterday."  
  
"Was she?" Mr. Branagh asked curiously. "I don't know where she got a copy from. Getting on a bit now, this is."  
  
"This is you," Robin asked, pointing at the record deck, the cardboard sleeve hanging limply from his other hand. He shook his head in disbelief, " _this_ is  _you_." He looked Mr. Branagh up and down,  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Mr. Branagh looked affronted. "Just because I don't like all your  _Marlene Manson_  and  _Funeral for my Valentine_ ," Robin assumed a pained expression, "doesn't mean I'm some old fogey."  
  
"But look at you," Robin protested, gesturing the photograph albums on the table. "How can you go from that to," he grimaced, " _that_?"  
  
"When you grow up, Robin," Mr. Branagh said sniffily, "You'll understand." He fixed him with a pointed look,  
  
"Nobody wants to hire a plumber with a safety pin rammed through their earlobe."  
  
And that, to Vlad's relief, signalled the end of the conversation.

* * *

"That's what's going to happen to me," Robin said quietly, knees hugged to his chest. "Before I know it I'm going to be buying Cliff Richard's greatest hits and be obsessed with Kendal mint cake."

"Robin," Vlad soothed, hating the miserable look on the other boy's face, "Just because your Dad changed, doesn't mean you will."  
  
"He's right though, isn't he?" Robin glanced around his bedroom walls at his drawings of bats and castles, finally settling once again on Vlad. "It's alright for you. But I'm going to 'ave to get a job, and then I'll 'ave to get married or something and then, without me even realising it's happened, I'm going to be  _normal_."  
  
Vlad scoffed, shifting to sit closer to Robin, their backs leaning against Robin's bedroom wall, "Trust me, you're never going to be normal."  
  
Robin just shook his head, "That's what happens when you grow up." He sighed, "You're so lucky, you're never going to have that problem."  
  
"I'll still have loads of responsibility though," Vlad said, thinking of his so-called destiny. It terrified him every time the thought crossed his mind. He forced a smile, "So it'll suck for both of us."  
  
"Do you think we'll stay friends?" Robin asked suddenly. "Do you think in twenty years time you'll still want to hang out with me?"  
  
Vlad met Robin's gaze solemnly, the desire to just tell Robin how certain he was that he'd love him just as much in twenty years as he did now like a physical ache, "I know I will. Even if you do start listening to Cliff."  
  
"You'd love that," Robin grinned, "He's your favourite." His expression grew more serious. "I hope you will, Vlad. I don't know what I'd do without you around."  
  
"I told you before," Vlad said, tone only half joking, "My life," he amended, " _unlife_ wouldn't be worth living without you."  
  
Robin gave him a searching look for a long moment before looking away. Silence reigned, but it wasn't awkward, and Vlad shifted closer so that their shoulders were touching. In the quiet he heard Robin swallow and then felt warm fingers touching his hand, entwining with his own. He squeezed back, leaning a little closer into Robin, feeling the tension drain out of the other boy's frame.  
  
"So," Robin said, tone conversational, but his thumb was rubbing softly against the skin of the back of his hand, "Are you going to tell Ingrid her new favourite band features my dad?"  
  
"Nah," Vlad smiled, laying his head on Robin's shoulder, "I thought I'd let you do it."  
  
Robin pressed an awkward kiss to his hair. " _Awesome_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	96. Vlad / Erin, but Vlad can't forget about Robin.

Vlad doesn't understand what there is to be confused about. Erin is pretty, and funny, and nice to him. Really nice to him, like he's not sure anyone ever has been. Because even Chloe couldn't see past his being a vampire, and Robin was always too busy posturing and primping and preening.  
  
It really ought to be a no brainer.  
  
Because Robin's hundreds of miles away and Erin's smiles are sweet, and shy, and they make his stomach flutter. But when they sit side by side, fingers linked together, Vlad can't help but think about how strange it is to be the taller, and how Erin doesn't smell of a mixture of Lynx and Imperial Leather.  
  
"Do you miss it?" Erin asks, and he must look clueless, because she adds, "Being human?"  
  
He does, of course. He misses the feel of the sun on his skin, and the lack of constant gnawing hunger, the  _need_ for nourishment the soya substitute will never be able to provide him. He misses Stokely, and Scouts, and rugby. Most of all he misses the moments of near normality, sat in his bedroom talking and laughing with Robin, promising that they were always going to be there for each other.  
  
It makes his eyes sting, the memory, even as he clings to it, not wanting to examine it too closely for fear it might deliver the answers, clear away the confusion.  
  
Aloud he says, simply,  
  
"How can I miss it? I was never human anyway."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	97. Robin / Vlad, Vlad learns to trust in himself.

"Check it out," Ian nodded, grinning at his brother. Paul followed his cue and turned around obediently, gesturing widely with his arms to point at the printed back of his own T-shirt.  
  
"Lock up your daughters," Ian smirked, waving a hand in the direction of his own T-shirt, lying on the kitchen table. "The Stokely boys are on their way."  
  
Robin rolled his eyes and shared a knowing look with Vlad; with Gary Price and Ryan Haskell in tow, so they had spent many lunchtimes over the last few weeks sniggering in discussion, their chances were practically nil. Not that they would have been high in the first place.  
  
"You do realise," Chloe said calmly, gracing them with a single disdainful look before turning her attention back to her book, "that is not how you spell Faliraki?"  
  
"Wha?" Paul asked, frantically trying to twist his neck enough to see his own back.  
  
Chloe shook her head, "It has one 'k'. And," she raised an eyebrow, "no 'h'."  
  
"It don't matter, bruv," Ian reassured Paul. "They don't speak English anyway."  
  
Paul processed this for a moment then nodded, seemingly satisfied, and slid into his seat at the dinner table. Chloe grimaced, as if the proximity of such a display of stupidity pained her. Vlad settled for smirking into his casserole.  
  
"Ah, yes," Paul beamed, rubbing his hands together in glee, "We'll be sunning it up on the beach, and what will you be doing?" He looked at Chloe, "Slaving away at geek camp."  
  
Ian nudged his brother in approval of his terminology.  
  
"It's not a 'geek' camp," Chloe said darkly. "It's a maths camp. For gifted mathematicians."  
  
"Yeah," Robin grinned, "geeks." Chloe kicked his leg under the table in retaliation, forcing him to clutch at his shin.  
  
"Boys," Mrs. Branagh said in a tone harsher than Vlad had ever heard her use before. "Leave your sister alone. There's a lot of competition to get a place, you should be proud of her."  
  
The twins looked contrite and, Vlad could see from his vantage point, even Robin flushed slightly at the telling off. Mr. Branagh, uncharacteristically subdued, Vlad thought, pushed his plate – only half empty – away. Vlad wondered if the man might be ill.  
  
"Are you still going to come to your Nana's with us for the week, Robin?" Mrs. Branagh asked, back to her usual friendly tone.  
  
"Aw, yeah," Robin nodded enthusiastically, swallowing his mouthful of food quickly. "Vlad," he turned to him excitedly, placing a hand on his arm, "I forgot to ask. Do you want to come with us? You'll love my Nan, she's awesome!" He gestured at the rest of his family, lowering his voice to a whisper as conversation carried on around them – Mr. Branagh asking the twins if they were planning to visit historic Rhodes while they were away. From the blank looks on their faces, Vlad guessed not.  
  
"She's not like them," Robin assured, wrinkling his nose, " _normal_. Me and my Nan are the only cool people in this family." He went on, "She knows all about vampires and aliens and ghosts and everything."  
  
Chloe, taking in the way what little colour there was drained from Vlad's face, sighed, "What he means is, when we were little, she liked to make up stories to keep Robin happy."  
  
"They're not made up!" Robin protested. "Mam, tell her!"  
  
"I'm sure your Nana believes in them," Mrs. Branagh said, placating neither of them.  
  
"Right, well," Robin stabbed at his dinner viciously, "when you're there you can judge for yourself." He paused, tone softening, "You are going to come, aren't you Vlad?"  
  
"I'm not sure it's a good idea," Mr. Branagh said.  
  
"You'll have to share a room," Mrs. Branagh warned.  
  
Vlad nodded at Robin, trying not to make it obvious that Mrs. Branagh's last statement had just been very welcome icing on top of an offer he'd never turn down. Lately he felt like he'd happily spend all day, every day, glued to Robin's side, just revelling in the other boy's company.  
  
"Wicked!" Robin exclaimed. Vlad smiled back shyly at him.  
  
Mr. Branagh chose that moment to push away from the table, the movement overly harsh and abrupt. "Vlad," He cleared his throat, "You will get permission from your father, won't you?" He didn't wait for Vlad's answer before leaving the room. Vlad looked at Robin for an explanation but he merely shrugged and went back to his food.  
  
Weird, Vlad thought absently, and set about following Robin's example.

* * *

"Absolutely not," the Count drawled languidly from his throne. Ignoring Vlad's scowl he went on, "You have your own grandparents; Granny Dracula hasn't seen you since you were so high." The Count held his hand two foot from the ground.

"You didn't tell me you went to see Granny last week, Vlad," Ingrid said in mock hurt.  
  
Vlad pulled a face at her, "Ingrid, you're as hilarious as ever." Still, he sat up a little straighter in his seat. It wasn't that he didn't want to get taller. "Granny Dracula," he said in a self-righteous voice, "lives in Transylvania." What was he supposed to do? Nip round for tea and entrails?  
  
"Exactly," the Count said enthusiastically. "Where better for a vampire your age to be learning his craft? Straight from the vampire's fangs."  
  
"I could go and see Granny Dracula," Ingrid suggested, the magazine in her grip suddenly forgotten.  
  
The Count shook his head in amusement, "Don't be ridiculous, Ingrid! She wants to see Vlad. Her favourite grandchild." Ingrid's resultant scowl was so vicious it had Vlad shrinking back into his chair.  
  
"You know he only wants to go with them so he can perv on Branagh while he's undressing." Ingrid said bitterly. Vlad felt himself blush,  
  
"No, I don't! What would you know about it anyway?"  
  
"More than I want to," Ingrid sneered back. "You really should invest in a lock for that diary, Vlad."  
  
"Really?" The Count asked in sudden interest.  
  
"No!" Vlad protested, again. "We're just friends."  
  
"Even Branagh's got some taste," Ingrid sneered.  
  
"Look, if you let me go I'll-" Vlad floundered for a moment, looking about the room for inspiration, his gaze fell on Ingrid's coffin polish, "I'll spend a whole week sleeping in the crypt." He nodded, pleased with himself. Robin would probably want to stay round all week too; it would be worth it for that.  
  
"You're not going to let him go for that, are you?" Ingrid said incredulously.  
  
The Count was already up and clapping a hand round Vlad's shoulder, "I knew this day would come, Vladimir." He sniffed, "My son, a true vampire."  
  
Ingrid's sneer said it all.

* * *

"They'll be on the plane now," Mrs. Branagh said from the front of the van, glancing anxiously at her watch. Robin, who was out of her line of sight, grinned at Vlad,

"They'll be on a plane. Whether or not it'll be the right one is anyone's guess."  
  
Vlad snorted softly in amusement and squirmed into a more comfortable position, watching fields full of sheep through the van window. Next to him Chloe was fidgeting with the straps of her backpack.  
  
"You don't 'ave to go on geek camp if you don't want to," Robin said. Vlad smiled at his attempt at acting like a concerned big brother, if the look on Chloe's face was anything to go by it still needed serious refinement. "It'll be full of weirdoes."  
  
"What," Chloe asked, one eyebrow raised, "like you?"  
  
"I'm not a weirdo," Robin scowled. "I'm an eccentric."  
  
"Here we are," Mr. Branagh called before the argument could escalate any further. Chloe shot Robin one last withering look before gathering up her bags.  
  
"Vlad," Chloe said pointedly, "say Hi to Nana for me. And don't let Robin annoy her too much, she's not well." Vlad, not knowing what else to do, nodded mutely and avoided Robin's sulky glare as she clambered out of the van. This was not the brilliant start he had envisaged.

* * *

"Ooh, it sounds lovely," Mrs. Branagh chirped down the telephone. She put her hand over the mouthpiece and turned to face Nana Branagh's artful sofa arrangement, "It sounds lovely."

"Are they wearing sun cream?" Mr. Branagh asked seriously.  
  
Mrs. Branagh put the phone back to her ear, "Dad wants to know if you're all wearing sun cream?" There was a pause before she repeated the process, nodding, "They're wearing sun cream."  
  
Robin rolled his eyes impatiently and cut over the top of the conversation, leaving Mr. and Mrs. Branagh to it. "Anyway, Nan, as I was trying to say, this is my friend, Vlad." He gestured at him, grinning, "From Transylvania."  
  
Vlad got up, Chloe's earlier warning about her grandmother's health ringing in his ears, to shake her hand. She smiled at him – nothing like the toothy sneer Granny Westenra favoured him with on her annual visits – and he couldn't help but notice that she and Robin had the same mischievous twinkle in their dark brown eyes.  
  
"I've heard a lot about you, Vlad," she took his hand and inspected it closely, looking for what Vlad couldn't say. "Robin's always talking about you."  
  
Vlad blushed; inwardly thrilled that he was Robin's favourite topic of conversation. When their gaze met Robin shrugged slightly, obviously embarrassed. Vlad beamed all the more for it.  
  
"So," Robin asked, clearing his throat, "what does it say?"  
  
Nana Branagh traced a work worn finger across the palm of his hand and Vlad frowned in confusion. "Long life, but we knew that," she flashed Robin a smile. "So many tough choices but," she met Vlad's gaze again, "you should trust your instincts, sweetheart." She trailed another of the shallow grooves, "You have the chance to be very happy." Vlad stared back at her, suddenly fearful of what she might be able to tell. The open sincerity in her eyes reassured him; whatever she knew, she wasn't going to use it against him.  
  
If she had more to tell him he would never know because Mr. Branagh chose that moment to interrupt. "Mam!" He scolded, shooing Vlad back over to Robin with a friendly hand and handing her a cup of tea. "You know you shouldn't encourage the children with all this mumbo-jumbo." He gave Robin a pointed look, "Especially those who don't need any encouragement."  
  
"Graham," she said fondly, giving the boys one last conspiratory look, "Don't fuss."  
  
Robin nudged him softly and whispered in his ear, grinning all over his face,  
  
"What did I tell you? Awesome."

* * *

The following morning Vlad was shocked to see Robin's bed empty when he woke up. Regular sleepovers had taught him that Robin didn't like to see any time before 2pm unless it was absolutely necessary. 8:30am on a non-school day was the sign of something exceptional. Slightly unnerved, Vlad got dressed quickly, combing his hair in the mirror above the old fashioned dressing table.

Quietly, he slid out onto the landing, toothbrush in one hand. He could hear movement in the kitchen downstairs, the soft strain of a radio and Mrs. Branagh's singing. He had seen Mr. Branagh in the garden through the bedroom window. He didn't mean to eavesdrop on purpose, had just paused a moment outside Nana Branagh's ajar door, straining his ears with the aim of finding out if that was where Robin was. Nothing more.  
  
Once there however, he found he couldn't tear himself away. Through the gap he could see Nana Branagh propped up against her deluge of pillows, chintzy floral bedspread and matching curtains, contrasting utterly with Robin's head to toe black. Vlad smiled, half amused and half transfixed with the happy smile across Robin's face and the way the morning light made his skin look an almost healthy tone, when diffused through the layers of net and cotton.  
  
He had had every intention of moving then, of going downstairs, or back to their room to wait, yet he'd stayed still.  
  
"I'll be fine, Robin bach. This is what it's like when you get old, can't be up gallivanting all the time. Your dad wanted to stop the twins going on holiday! Chloe from going on her camp! It's a lot of fuss about nothing."  
  
"Mam said you should be in the hospital." Robin said quietly, smile slipping. "I heard her talking about it with dad." He shifted restlessly, "Chloe doesn't know. Nor the twins."  
  
"Hospital!" Nana Branagh looked affronted at the very idea. "I can't be doing with them. Full of old biddies talking about knitting and Countdown. Terrible places."  
  
Robin grinned toothily.  
  
"Anyway, that's enough about me. I want to hear what progress you've made. Are you courting yet?"  
  
"Nan," Robin squirmed, blushing, "it's not called 'courting'. And," he fidgeted, "no, not yet. I can't just go and ask, 'Do you want to go out with me?' Can I?"  
  
"Why not?" Nana Branagh asked indignantly. "That's not the Robin I know." Her tone softened, "What do I keep telling you? They'd be mad to turn you down."  
  
"Yeah, I know." Robin sighed, "It's just that nobody else shares your point of view. Especially not the person I really want to." He shrugged helplessly, "Love sucks."  
  
The sound of footsteps came from the bottom of the staircase and Vlad went back to the room he was sharing with Robin in quick, clumsy movements, shutting the door behind him with exaggerated care and resting his forehead against it. He clenched his eyes shut against the sting of tears and told himself he should have expected it. Should have prepared himself for it.  
  
Robin had fallen for someone. And that someone wasn't him.

* * *

Dinner that evening was awkward. Mr. Branagh hid his face in the newspaper and didn't say a word. Mrs. Branagh kept up a stream of chatter but it sounded forced to Vlad's ears. Then again, he reasoned, it was probably just his own mood inflecting what he was hearing. Every time he looked up to see Robin staring at him he had to fight against another wave of misery. He pushed his food around his plate and was glad when Mrs. Branagh suggested they might be tired and like to go to bed.

Alone in their room Robin had watched him with questioning eyes as he got ready for bed, making him feel even more of an idiot, bringing to mind as it did Ingrid's cutting words on his reason for accompanying Robin in the first place. Just when he had begun to think that they were going to go to sleep without saying a single word, Robin finally broke the silence,  
  
"I saw an alien from here, once."  
  
Vlad frowned up at the ceiling. "An alien? When was this?"  
  
"Before you came to Stokely," Robin's voice sounded solemn in the darkened room. "Nobody believed me. Except for Nan." There was another pause and Vlad waited, certain from his tone that Robin was going somewhere with this. "I used to come round here all the time." There was rustling, the sound of fidgeting as Robin turned onto his side, "I never had any friends before you."  
  
Robin had told him as much before, more than once, but not for years. Not since before he had first worn the Crown and Vlad hadn't realised the other boy still felt so strongly about it. He'd give anything to have been friends with Robin all his life.  
  
"I," Robin went on, hesitantly, "don't know what I've done, Vlad but, whatever it is, I'm sorry. I hate it when you're not speaking to me."  
  
"You haven't done anything," Vlad responded quietly, guilt twisting in his chest. It wasn't Robin's fault that he couldn't deal with what he had overheard. He should never have been listening in the first place.  
  
Silence descended again and Vlad searched for something to say to make Robin understand how sincere he was. Without giving away why. Eventually, when so much time had passed he wasn't even sure if Robin was still awake, he settled for a whispered,  
  
"I never had any friends either. I'm glad. They couldn't have compared to you."

* * *

It rained for almost the entirety of the next day and, come mid-afternoon, Vlad found himself curled into an armchair next to Robin in Nana Branagh's room, watching "Dracula's Daughter". He conceded, if only to himself, that he had been in stranger situations.

 _"Some man is in there with a stake through his heart."  
  
"You know anything about this?"  
  
"Yes, I did it."_  
  
"Haha," Robin gestured at the television screen, "How have you not seen this, Vlad? It's awesome."  
  
"I'm surprised you haven't shown him it already, Robin," Nana Branagh said, giving Vlad an understanding, knowing smile. Vlad grinned back.  
  
"He gets scared," Robin answered distractedly, before clapping a hand on Vlad's shoulder and demanding enthusiastically, "Watch this bit now."  
  
_"How long has he been dead?"_  The detective on screen asked, notebook ready.  
  
_"About 500 years."_  
  
Robin fell about laughing. Vlad just rolled his eyes and let himself think about the fact he was practically in Robin's lap. He wished he could lay his head against Robin's shoulder but he got the impression that it would look irredeemably girly, as well as flouting his dad's number one rule of being a vampire: self-preservation.  
  
Before Robin could offer any more running commentary, Mrs. Branagh's voice rang up the stairs. "Robin! Come and fetch this tray."  
  
"Aw," Robin shook his head, extracting himself from their cramped position. "You're lucky I love you," he directed at his Nan in a tone laced with mock suffering. She raised an eyebrow in response, an expression that reminded him so much of Robin, Vlad almost laughed out loud.  
  
When Robin had left Vlad felt suddenly uncomfortable, an outsider once more. Nana Branagh seemed to sense it and filled the silence for him,  
  
"It's lovely to meet you at last, Vlad. I wasn't lying the other night. From the moment you two met Robin hasn't been able to talk about anything else."  
  
"All bad, I expect," Vlad responded, trying not to let on how much it meant to him. He met her gaze and was struck by the solemnity in her eyes,  
  
"Robin always needed a friend like you. To be there for him." She went on, "Some time in the future, some time soon, he's going to ask you to do something, and - it won't be a decision anyone else can make. Just," Vlad felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, his heartbeat quicken in his chest, although the words made little sense to him, "trust in your instincts. You will make the right choice."  
  
He wanted to ask her what she meant, to tell him more, but Robin was back, battering the paintwork with his loaded tray and complaining profusely about his mother's failure to buy any ginger snaps on her earlier shopping expedition. The weird intensity had gone and, by the time the film was back on and Robin was dropping biscuit crumbs all over his favourite sweater, Vlad couldn't help but wonder if he hadn't just imagined the entire scene.

* * *

"Chloe's enjoying maths camp," Mrs. Branagh told him over breakfast the following morning, Robin having gone back to his usual routine and sleeping the morning away.

Vlad nodded politely, "I bet." Chloe was cut out for that sort of thing. Curiously he glanced up at the collection of photographs lining the walls of Nana Branagh's dining room. He imagined the Branagh gene pool must be something special to have produced two sporting stars, a child prodigy and an artistic genius. He cocked his head to the side in consideration; an incredibly handsome artistic genius. That was more like it.  
  
Mrs. Branagh followed his gaze to a black and white photograph of a man in old fashioned clothing. "That's Robin's granddad," she explained, "He was a lovely man. He died when Robin was a baby." Vlad looked at it with fresh eyes, he thought the man had Robin's nose. Underneath it there was a photograph of Mr. and Mrs. Branagh on their wedding day, Mrs. Branagh smiling shyly up into her new husband's eyes. Vlad smiled,  
  
"How did you meet Robin's dad?"  
  
"Oh," Mrs. Branagh said in pleased surprise. "We went to school together." Vlad turned his attention to her eagerly; there was nothing he liked more than stories of school yard romances that went the distance. Mrs. Branagh smiled wistfully, "Graham was in the year above me, and so dashing." Vlad resisted the urge to laugh.  
  
Sitting down opposite him, Mrs. Branagh went on, "I was a library monitor and, every Monday, I'd scour the register to see when his books were due back, and pick that day for my shift. And what do you think he'd do?" Vlad was silent, he had no idea. Mrs. Branagh shook her head in remembered frustration, "He'd bring them back late. Every time."  
  
"So, he didn't know you liked him?" Vlad asked, thinking of Robin. Of the way he spent hour after hour with him every day, waiting desperately for some sign that Robin could like him back.  
  
"Well," Mrs. Branagh gave him a motherly smile, "Not until Julie Hicks and I followed him all around the Stokely summer fete so I could tell him. Sometimes," her gaze turned knowing, "We have to be brave and take the first step ourselves."  
  
"I don't think I'll ever be that brave," Vlad said sadly, staring down into his rapidly congealing cereal.  
  
"Vlad," Mrs. Branagh started, putting a comforting hand on his forearm, "I'm sure –"  
  
"Elisabeth!" Mr. Branagh burst through the door, eyes red rimmed and slightly wild, "Quickly."  
  
She nodded solemnly and stood, releasing his arm,  
  
"I'll ring the doctor."  
  
Vlad followed upstairs cautiously, fitting the pieces together in his mind at double quick speed. He understood now why Mr. Branagh had tried to dissuade him from coming. He was glad he hadn't listened. Robin was going to be devastated.  
  
When he reached the landing Mrs. Branagh was stood just outside Nana Branagh's bedroom door. She motioned him close, and Vlad could hear Robin's voice, thick with tears, coming from inside. "I'm so sorry. We should have told you." Mrs. Branagh said, close to tears herself, "We didn't think it would be quite so soon." Vlad shook his head,  
  
"It's alright." He stood up straighter, "I want to be here for Robin."  
  
Mrs. Branagh gave him a watery smile, "You're a good boy, Vlad."  
  
At that moment the door opened and Robin pushed past them, Vlad catching a flash of his blotchy face, as he made for their room. Vlad shot Mrs. Branagh one last sympathetic smile and went after him.  
  
"Robin," he called softly, gingerly sitting down on the edge of Robin's mattress. Robin was lying on his front, face buried in his arms, shoulders shaking. "Robin?" He put a tentative hand on Robin's back, the sight wrenching at his own heart. Robin's only response was to sob harder and Vlad could take it no longer. He tugged insistently at Robin's shoulder, encouraging him to sit up.  
  
He did so, clinging to him instead, tears soaking through the thin material of Vlad's shirt. "She's g-g-g-going to d-d-die." Robin forced out eventually, and Vlad clutched him closer, one hand on his back, the other carding softly through his dark hair.  
  
"I know, Robin. I know."  
  
"But why?" Robin implored rhetorically, breaking down again. Vlad kept silent.  
  
Robin's breathing was something approaching normal when he next tried to speak. Pulling away from his grasp, his eyes were bright; shining with unshed tears and something else that Vlad found himself wanting to shrink away from.  
  
"You can stop it though, can't you?" Robin asked, excitedly. "If you bite her, she won't die. If you bite someone, they never have to die."  
  
"Robin," Vlad said nervously. "You know I can't."  
  
"Why can't you!" Robin demanded harshly. "You can, you just don't want to! You know you can, you have your fangs already!" He swiped at his reddened eyes with his shirt sleeve in frustration. "You're supposed to be my best friend."  
  
Vlad bit his lip, torn between wanting to stop Robin being upset, and what he knew – beyond all doubt – was the right thing to do.  
  
"If you were telling the truth, if you really are my friend, you'd do this for me."  
  
Robin stared at him, accusing, and Vlad felt as if he couldn't breathe under the weight of the pressure upon him. If he didn't do it, would Robin ever forgive him? Would this be it, their friendship over? His only chance of something more gone, forever. Suddenly Nana Branagh's words of the previous day ran through his mind.  
  
_"He'll ask you do something, and it won't be a decision anyone else can make. Just trust your instincts. You will make the right choice."_  
  
Forcing himself to meet Robin's gaze, he swallowed around the lump in his throat,  
  
"I can't."

* * *

Bright and clear, the summer sun shone down on the neat graveyard. Vlad thought of how different these scenes always looked in the pictures blu-tacked to Robin's bedroom walls. He wondered if Robin would hate such weather all the more for its new association. Vlad tried to offer him a solemn smile as the undertakers arranged him and his brothers – sun-burnt faces swollen with grief – around the coffin. Robin steadfastly avoided his gaze.

Once inside Vlad struggled to sit still, his skin crawling, ears hissing with voices in tongues he was not familiar with. The message was crystal all the same. He was unwelcome. Unclean. Vlad clenched his hands into fists, feet shifting restlessly, as Robin took his seat beside him. He glanced around the church during the hymn – his voice refusing to co-operate – averting his gaze from the religious imagery, cold sweat prickling his skin.  
  
Chloe was sat on his other side, sobbing helplessly into her hands, Mr. Branagh's arm around her as he joined her. The twins had their heads bowed, silent tears streaking their cheeks. Mrs. Branagh had a handkerchief pressed tight to her eyes. Robin, stood apart as always, sat ramrod straight, dry cheeked. But Vlad could hear his rhythmic swallowing; could see how hard he was fighting to keep it up.  
  
Vlad clenched his eyes tight shut, clawed at his leg with his fingernails, wishing the air wasn't so thick and stifling. Finally, he reached for Robin's hand, clasping it tightly in his own. He wasn't sure if it was for him, or for Robin but when the latter squeezed back gratefully he came to the conclusion that it didn't really matter.  
  
He had trusted his instincts.  
  
He had made the right decision.

* * *

_Epilogue._

"I couldn't have done this without you, Vlad. Any of it." Robin said, eyes soft and genuine as they sat together on Robin's unmade bed.  
  
Vlad shrugged, unable to hold Robin's gaze, fidgeting with the length of his unknotted tie. "That's what friends are for."  
  
"You're the best friend anyone could ever have," Robin assured. "I know how hard it was for you today, but you went anyway." He gave Vlad a lopsided smile, "For me."  
  
"I was so scared," Vlad mumbled, voicing the emotions that had been ranging inside him. "I thought you would never forgive me." At Robin's look of confusion, he elaborated, "When I said no."  
  
"Oh, Vlad," Robin breathed, face crumpling. Without thinking, Vlad touched his hand to Robin's cheek, fingertips sliding into his hair, thumb resting at the strong juncture of his jaw. He didn't think his heart could withstand seeing Robin cry again. Especially not over him. "I'm so sorry."  
  
"It's not your fault," Vlad reassured; Robin had been apologising since almost the very moment he had first asked. "You were upset." Robin didn't pull away from his touch, if anything arched into it, and Vlad wished with everything he had that Robin could want something more from him. "Your Nan warned me. She said you would ask me for something. But if I trusted my instincts, I'd make the right choice."  
  
Dark eyes met his own at that, tentative fingers reaching to touch the swell of his cheekbone. Robin bit at his lip, "I d-don't think that's what she meant," he stammered. "She knew – I told –" Robin took a breath, so close Vlad was sure the other boy must be able to hear the rapid pounding of his heart, "I love you."  
  
His fingers fell away from Vlad's cheek, his eyes downcast. He snorted quietly, "She always thought you would love me back." The sight of Robin so uncharacteristically lacking in confidence propelled Vlad into action.  
  
"She was right," he let the fingers of his other hand trail up the side of Robin's neck and into his hair, "about that." He smiled at Robin, "About everything."  
  
And, then, he took to heart the advice of yet another Branagh, summoning all his courage, and pressed his lips to Robin's. Knew it had been worthwhile when Robin's mouth moved against his own, Robin's hand curled around his hip. Vlad smiled into it and let Robin take control.  
  
His first friend; his first love; his first kiss.  
  
He couldn't have hoped for anyone better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	98. Robin / Vlad, inspired by Werepuppy's Chronicles of Life and Unlife series.

"She won't want to see you again."

"Oh, believe me," Vlad smirked nastily at Robin. "She will."

He leaned back in his chair and watched the play of emotions across Robin's face – anger, fear, jealousy, resignation. Robin had always been useless at hiding anything.

Back when he'd been little Vladdy Count he would have given almost anything to see that flash of jealousy on the other man's face. Would have acted like some pathetic lovesick brat and touched his fingertips to Robin's cheek, told him he was sorry for upsetting him.

Little Vladdy Count was dead and buried.

Instead Vlad shifted forward and brazenly trailed cold fingers up the inside of Robin's clothed thigh. Sneered at the way Robin's eyes fell shut, the way his pale cheeks flamed with colour.

"If this is what you wanted, you should have just told me," he whispered, the mocking tone of his voice making it clear this was no attempt at romance. "Perhaps I wouldn't even have had to  _fuck_  your little sister."

Robin's eyes flew open at that, and his fingers closed tightly around Vlad's wrist, wrenching his hand away from his thigh. "Don't touch me." The words were clipped and cold and, had he been Vladdy, he would have begged Robin's forgiveness.

As it was he swept to his feet, leaning down to hiss in Robin's ear, "You don't mean that. Meet me at mine at 8:30. Don't be late," before leaving the coffee shop without a backwards glance.

 

* * *

 

It was 8:33 exactly when Vlad sensed Robin's presence, pacing outside the huge wooden door. He grinned to himself in triumph – not that he'd ever seriously believed Robin wouldn't show – and opened it, making Robin jump in surprise.

Vlad bowed theatrically and swept an arm out, "welcome to my humble abode."

Robin stepped inside cautiously and looked around. It was the first time he'd been inside the castle since Vlad had returned to Stokely. When they met at all, it was always on neutral ground.

The door slammed loudly, the chandelier above the filthy table trembling with the force of it. Robin startled again as Vlad appeared in front of him, so close he could feel the ghost of Vlad's unnecessary breath on his cheek.

"Vlad, I –"

Vlad silenced him with a brutal kiss, biting at Robin's bottom lip, before fisting one hand into Robin's thick hair. He pulled at the handful violently, enjoying the way tears of pain sprang to Robin's eyes, then used the hold to push Robin down onto his knees.

"What's wrong Robin? I thought," he pulled harder at Robin's hair, forcing him to expose the long column of his throat, "that this was what you'd always wanted?"

Robin was breathing harshly, fear warring with something else entirely.

"I thought," Vlad went on, tone low and threatening, "that we had come to an agreement." He punctuated that with another twist to his hair, wanting to hurt Robin. To make him understand that he wasn't who Robin thought he was. That he wasn't some sappy lovesick teenager with a crush on his best friend.

He leaned in closer, to hiss in Robin's ear, "You can't back out now."

"Just stop it!"

Vlad hadn't been expecting Robin to retaliate so swiftly, stumbled unsteadily as Robin wrenched himself free with a strength Vlad could hardly credit. Robin was still taller than him and, once he was on his feet, Vlad was forced to look up as Robin stepped in closer. As he touched a hesitant hand to his arm.

The heat soaked in through his shirt sleeve, like a brand, and then Robin was sliding his palm over the material, both of them watching. He didn't stop when he reached the pale skin of Vlad's wrist, tracing heated patterns across the back of his hand and linking their fingers together.

His other hand came up to touch Vlad's cheek gently, the way Vlad had earlier imagined he might have once done himself. He met the other man's gaze warily, unsure as to what Robin was planning. Robin's eyes were dark and full of some emotion which Vlad couldn't place but made his chest constrict, all the same.

"Why do you always 'ave to act like such a heartless bastard?" Robin murmured, the ghost of a smile on his lips. And, then, before he had any hope of answering Robin's mouth was pressed against his own, soft and undemanding. Nothing like the violent way Vlad had clashed their teeth together.

When Robin pulled back, Vlad tried to follow, unable to stop himself.

"See," Robin grinned at him, "that wasn't so bad, was it?" Vlad said nothing and Robin's expression faltered, all trace of humour wiped away. "I want you, Vlad," Robin told him, a desperate edge to his tone that made Vlad struggle to keep his own expression neutral. "I've always wanted you."

Vlad carefully avoided making eye contact.

"But you 'ave to meet me halfway," Robin said, disentangling the hand Vlad hadn't realised was still entwined in his own. He felt strangely bereft without it. Robin touched fingers to his jaw instead, forcing Vlad to looks at him. "If all you want is someone to fall into bed with, then," he shrugged slightly, casually. Vlad could see the effort it took, the tension in Robin's shoulders. "You'll 'ave to find someone else."

Vlad stared at Robin, momentarily stunned into silence. He should laugh at him; tell him how little he cared what Robin  _wanted_. If he picked his words carefully he could have Robin sobbing, could have him going home and pressing the sharp blade of his razor back against his wrist. Vlad looked down at his hand, the warmth of Robin's skin still lingering, and realised he couldn't do it. Aloud he said,

"And what makes you think I'd want anything more than a quick fuck from  _you_?"

His voice was nowhere near as confident as he'd wanted it to be, a quick glance at the other man's face told him that Robin knew it too.

Robin ignored the question. "You still dream about me, Vlad? I bet you do." Vlad kept still, motionless as Robin stepped closer, until he was so close he was crooning in Vlad's ear. His breath was hot against his skin, and Vlad shivered all over. "Why else would you keep meeting me?" Robin pushed. "It's not like I even pay for your coffee."

For the first time in years Vlad felt ashamed, realising that Chloe must have already told Robin everything. Robin continued, voice suddenly low and dangerous, "I could treat you like dirt, Vlad. It's what you deserve. But - " the words fanned across his cheek and down his neck, and Vlad threaded his hand back into Robin's hair, the touch free of malice. " - I'm going to give you a second chance."

Robin held Vlad's gaze, the quiet confidence in his eyes unnerving. Vlad was used to being in control.

"Either we do this on my terms, or," Robin sucked in an obviously fortifying breath, "we don't do it at all." He stepped out of Vlad's reach. "It's your choice."

The moment seemed to stretch into an eternity, Vlad unsure how Robin had managed to turn the tables against him so swiftly. He'd envisaged the night going one of two ways. Either he would scare Robin off for good, or he'd gain another little fuck buddy, happy to jump at his every command. He hadn't expected to see Robin, arms folded across his chest, determined and demanding.

"Fine." Robin snapped eventually, and Vlad could  _hear_  the way Robin had to push it past the lump in his throat.

His footsteps echoed across the room and Vlad swallowed thickly, a hundred options ricocheting through his head. He didn't need Robin anyway. Didn't need to see the disappointment in his eyes every time Vlad did something that Vladdy would never have even dreamed of. Didn't need to see the glimmer of hope every time he managed the opposite.

"Ave a nice unlife, Vlad," Robin muttered at the doorway and it jolted him into action, the finality making him feel sick and hollow.

It took all his strength to bypass his pride and murmur, "Don't go."

Robin looked at him expectantly, the hint of hope that made Vlad turn up on time to their appointments and keep tabs on him through his bedroom window late at night written clear on his every feature.

"I'm not - Vlad hesitated, forcing himself to continue. "I'm not who you want me to be."

He cringed as soon as he said it, feeling exposed and vulnerable. This was what it came down to, what it  _always_ came down to. If he hated what he had become, how could he expect different from anyone else?

"Vlad," Robin said, rough and strained like it had been as emotional to hear as it had been to say, and Vlad found himself crushed against Robin's chest, arms wrapped tight around him. Vlad couldn't even find it in him to protest at being treated like a girl, not if it meant Robin would hold him like this forever.

He'd been an idiot to think he didn't want it.

Robin pressed a kiss into his hair, and Vlad clung to him gratefully. If Robin thought he was worth the effort then perhaps he was. The thought made him cling tighter. When Robin finally put space between them he kept his hands on Vlad's upper arms, like he couldn't bear to let go completely, and Vlad tried not to let on how glad he was. Robin just smiled at him, wide and genuine, and said,

"You 'ave to let me be the judge of that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	99. Robin / Vlad, Vlad dabbles in the black arts...

"Branagh!" Mr. Jenkins called, eyeing him up with obvious distaste, "Stop talking and get changed!" He scrawled something onto his clipboard, and Vlad felt guilty for starting the conversation. Whatever it was, it wouldn't please Mr. Branagh come report time, he was sure. Mr. Jenkins gave them both one last derisory look and shook his head,

"Who knows when I'll next be _graced_  with your presence?"

"I told you we should 'ave mitched," Robin sulked, wrenching his tie free and starting on his shirt buttons. Vlad gave him a mock glare then pretended to concentrate on folding his own clothes, all the while watching Robin from underneath lowered lashes. There was no way he had been going to throw away what could be his last ever opportunity to watch Robin undress.

Robin, oblivious as usual, continued complaining, "I _hate_  rugby. An' it's freezing outside." He scowled harder, balling up his shirt and rooting through his kitbag for his rugby shirt. Vlad did his best not to stare. "It's teachers' training day tomorrow," Robin went on, "You know what that means? You're going to leave school now without 'aving mitched a single lesson."

"What's this?" Richard Price demanded, leaning casually against the side of their bench, "You're leaving school?" Vlad kept his gaze down awkwardly; only Ingrid surpassed Price in the making his life a misery stakes.

"Hear that, boys?" Davis called jovially from his side, attracting the attention of the entire changing room, "Count's leaving school."

A cheer went up and Vlad dug crescents into his palm in an attempt to pretend he didn't care. Robin gave him a sheepish half shrug in apology, and Jenkins ordered them all outside, Vlad trailing behind miserably.

He had thought there would be more of a sense of occasion.

 

* * *

 

"Sorry about earlier, Vlad." Robin shifted his backpack slightly, looking uncomfortable, "I didn't mean to let everyone know."

Vlad shrugged, hoping the movement was more nonchalant and less maudlin, "They would have found out on Monday anyway."

"You've got nothing to worry about," Robin told him, voice full of the confidence Vlad couldn't summon, "you're going to be the best Grand High Vampire ever."

Vlad snorted softly. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate Robin trying to cheer up; it was just that it wasn't going to work. He was literally _days_  away from becoming a bloodthirsty monster, and there was nothing he could do about it.

"School is rubbish anyway," Robin went on, "you won't be missing anything." He flashed him a crooked grin then, the one that never failed to make his heart beat faster in his chest. Vlad wondered how he would react to it come Monday. "I'm the only thing worth seeing at Stokely Grammar, an' I'll still come round an' see you every day. Night. You know what I mean."

"That's what you say now," Vlad said quietly, mortified at the lump in his throat and the way his eyes were stinging. He tried to blink it away, finally resorting to pressing a hand to his face. His fingertips met damp and he turned away, glad there weren't too many people around. He didn't need to see Robin's face to picture his expression. Awkward pity, he imagined; Robin would no doubt be wondering why he couldn't just pull himself together and get a grip.

"Vlad?" Robin's tone was soft and the heat of his hand seeped through the fabric of his rugby jersey when he placed it on his shoulder. There were footsteps behind them and Vlad felt worse knowing people were watching, and would tell everyone else what an idiot he was. Robin touched his other hand to his arm and tried again, "Vlad?"

"Look, just-" Vlad pulled free, "leave me alone. Yeah?" He scrubbed his hands across his face and started walking briskly, not waiting for Robin to catch up. When Robin did fall back into step beside him, his long strides making short work of his head start, he kept quiet.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Robin finally asked as they rounded the street corner. Vlad swallowed thickly – because almost-vampires did _not_  cry – and looked away, up at the imposing silhouette of the castle, and shook his head.

"It won't make any difference, will it?"

 

* * *

 

Vlad cracked an eyelid open tentatively and groaned. " _What_  are you doing?"

"Ah, excellent!" The Count exclaimed to Renfield, peering closely at the reading on the tape measure. To Vlad he said, "Measuring up for your new coffin, of course." He flitted to Vlad's side with unnatural speed, leaning over him, the dangerous glint in his eye making Vlad wish he'd just carried on pretending to be asleep.

"Come Monday you will be a true vampire, Vlad. The Prince of Darkness, feaster on men."

Renfield sniffled loudly, "They grow up so fast, Master."

The Count scowled at him and turned back to Vlad. "It will be a party to remember. Your mother's coming," the Count grimaced, "but, don't worry, that furball won't be darkening our door."

Vlad offered a strained smile, not knowing if the Count was referring to Patrick or Barry. He decided that he didn't really care. "Yeah, sounds great." Staring up at the ceiling he mumbled bitterly, "Can't wait."

"That's the spirit, Vlad!" The Count beamed at him. With a flourish he stood, grimacing and ushering Renfield away when he stepped back into him. Renfield scurried from the room, head bowed. The Count paused in the doorway, "Oh, and I suppose you'll be inviting your peasant friend."

"Robin?" Vlad asked eagerly, brightening at the thought of the other boy.

"Yes," the Count smirked widely, "You'll want a pick me up when you finish." He finished matter of factly, "the boy's blood is all sugar."

With that the Count was gone and Vlad stormed to his own feet, Zoltan peering up at him curiously.

"I am  _not_ ," Vlad shook his head, jaw set with determination, "becoming a vampire."

 

* * *

 

"Master Vlad," Zoltan started cautiously, "I really cannot advise you continue with this course of action."

"No?" Vlad asked sarcastically, scratching out a pentagram on the flagstone floor, "Well, it's a good job I didn't ask for your opinion then, isn't it?"

"The results are unpredictable and-"

Vlad pushed at the stuffed wolf, wheeling him from the room and slamming the door. Nothing was going to stop him from going through with this. He looked around the empty room, one of the many the Count had had no purpose for, gaze falling on the candles and the book he'd brought down from the library. He'd been up all night scouring the place for something that could get him out of this nightmare.

Squaring his shoulders he started lighting the candles, using matches instead of the fire he'd begun to learn to control. He was going to start as he meant to go on. What was losing the ability to start fire compared to being human? To being  _him_? When all the candles were lit he sat cross legged in the middle of the pentagram, spreading the book across his lap.

The incantation flowed easily, his Latin having always been much better than his coffin maintenance and target practice. It was as if he could  _feel_  it working, the air prickling with tension. As he neared the end of the page there was buzzing in his ears, the air thick and stifling around him. His voice rose and he forced the final syllable passed his lips, the candles extinguished, the door crashing back and hitting the wall.

Vlad looked up in shock, uncertain what he expected to see. It wasn't what he actually saw. Robin, framed against the doorway, looking slightly abashed at the noise he'd made but otherwise unmoved. A grin spread across his face then, gaze lingering on the pentagram and the blood (Ingrid wouldn't miss what she didn't know was gone) smeared across the points of the star.

"Black magic?  _Awesome_."

 

* * *

 

"I really thought it was going to work," Vlad admitted quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets as they made their way into town. Robin gave him a sympathetic smile – still enough to make Vlad's pulse race – and said,

"Come on, cheer up. I'll buy you dinner."

Robin meant, of course, he'd pay for some over salted, reconstituted food washed down with the over-sweetened fizzy pop his dad had long ago banned him from touching. Vlad grinned back gratefully. Maybe if he rotted his teeth enough he wouldn't be able to do anyone any damage. Robin stopped suddenly, holding out a hand to halt Vlad.

"Look at that," he gestured at the poster adorning the side of the bus stop, "I didn't know Zoltox Raven had a new film out." Robin was ogling openly at her low cut top and Vlad scowled at her surgically enhanced face,

"Isn't she a bit old for you? She must be catching  _my_  dad up by now."

Robin glared at him, "Haha, very funny." He gave the poster one last admiring glance, then started walking again, shrugging, "I'd still give her one though." Vlad glared back at it before hurrying to catch Robin up. Perhaps, if he had to drain someone, he could live with himself if it were  _her_.

Town was busy; Stokely's student population out in force to celebrate a day free from school, Vlad supposed. Looking around at bustle of people Vlad felt oddly unnerved, like there was something different, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what. He decided that it must be the novelty being out, with Robin, in the fresh air on a school day.

He kept his head down as they walked through the main square, not wanting another confrontation with Price and his group of friends who habitually loitered in the vicinity. Not in the mood he was in at any rate. He might do something stupid, like bust Price's nose in retaliation for every horrid thing he'd ever said to him and Robin.  _Especially_ Robin.

Vlad wondered suddenly how he'd be feeling if he were Robin, knowing he'd have to face Stokely Grammar on his own every day for the rest of the year, with no one to speak to or sit with. When he glanced up at Robin the other boy was looking over at the ornamental fountain – bubbling away for the first time Vlad could remember – but he looked overly tense. Vlad had to fight back the overwhelming urge to squeeze Robin's hand in reassurance.

Robin, he was beyond certain, would  _not_  appreciate the gesture.

"They've done it up again," Robin said, startling him out of his maudlin thoughts. Vlad followed his gaze to the shop front, taking in the lack of day-glo colours and the addition of a smiling effigy of Ronald McDonald outside the main doors. Vlad fell back a step and moved to Robin's other side as they entered.

He didn't like clowns.

"Don't know why they bothered," Robin was saying as they joined the end of the queue. The radio changed tracks and Robin grinned, "Proper retro in 'ere today, innit?" Vlad, who had never really heard anything other than his father's piano and some local folk songs via Renfield before coming to Stokely, shrugged and 'hmmmed' noncommittally.

"Sorry, love," a harassed looking woman said as she manoeuvred a pushchair between them and the people behind, and Vlad moved aside obligingly. Robin was gazing happily at the menu board, rattling off the pros and cons of super-sizing, and Vlad found himself staring curiously at the customers. He didn't recognise anyone from school, even though the place was full of people their age. Even the clothes they were wearing were different, although Robin remained the only goth in the entire establishment.

Vlad liked that about Robin; he was so  _proud_ of being different. If only, he thought grimly, letting his gaze linger on Robin's artfully gelled hair, Robin could just be a little more different. He looked away guiltily. Wishing things didn't make them come true.

"Do you know what you want, Vlad?" Robin asked, rooting through the pockets of his coat for his wallet, "I'm gonna 'ave –"

Vlad wasn't listening. Instead he was gaping at the two men who had just entered, one tall and stocky with thinning hair. The other was slightly younger – late twenties he'd say - with light brown hair and a friendly smile. He stared a moment longer, warring with the incredulous disbelief the sight engendered.

"Vlad?" Robin pressed, "What do you want to eat?"

He didn't speak, putting a hand on Robin's arm instead and gesturing over at the two figures approaching them. Robin paled – something Vlad hadn't thought was even possible – and gaped for a long moment before recovering enough to speak,

" _Dad_?"

 

* * *

 

" _Dad?_ " Robin looked from one to the other, eyes wide, "Uncle Bryn?"

"Is this a joke, son?" The taller of the two – Bryn Vlad corrected himself – asked authoritatively, taking in Robin's head to toe black with a disapproving look. "Because I'm not laughing."

Vlad pressed closer to Robin, not liking the way things were going. Something was wrong,  _very_  wrong. Robin was still staring at Bryn's receding hairline,

"What happened to your hair?"

"You little - " Bryn sputtered. The question had obviously touched a nerve.

"We really need to go," Vlad cut in hurriedly, attempting to drag Robin by the arm. He was starting to get an idea of what exactly had gone wrong. And, if he was right, this was the last place they ought to be.

"Not so fast." Bryn shook his head, obviously restraining himself, and took a notebook from his pocket. "I want your names, both of you."

Vlad didn't stop, pushing through a crowd of girls who scowled and called abuse after them, and leading them both into the cold air. When he looked back he could see Mr. Branagh put a hand on Bryn's arm, obviously restraining.

They kept running, dodging pensioners and small children, only coming to a halt when they rounded a corner, certain they were out of sight. Robin leaned against the nearest shop front, panting heavily, unused to the physical exertion.

"What's going on, Vlad?"

"I'm not sure," Vlad answered, peering back in the direction they had just come, making sure they weren't being followed. He heard a sharp intake of breath then, and looked at Robin in concern. The other boy's face was ashen and Vlad followed his gaze to the newsstand, ice forming in the pit of his stomach.

Because that morning, he was fairly confident, it had  _not_  been 1993.

 

* * *

 

"What are we going to do?"

Vlad pushed his hands into his pockets, unable to stave off the trembling in his fingers. He felt sick. They had gone back to the castle to find nothing but a derelict ruin, Robin helpfully telling him that its previous occupants hadn't started doing it up until he was in primary school.

He'd tried pinching the skin of his arm and, when that failed, raking his fingernails down it as viciously as he could. It hadn't made any difference. He hadn't woken up safe in his own bed. Robin had just raised an eyebrow and shook his head and told him they might as well make the most of it.

"Don't worry about it, Vlad," Robin told him, tone cheerful as they made their way back through the town centre. "It'll sort itself out, I expect. Aw, wow, I'd forgotten that used to be there."

Vlad looked up to see a computer games store where there  _ought_  to be a mobile phone shop. Before Vlad could stop him Robin was pushing the door open, a bell jingling to acknowledge his entrance and he had no choice but to follow.

"Look at this, Vlad!" Robin exclaimed excitedly, gesturing towards the games display. He picked one of the oversized boxes eagerly, shoving it under Vlad's nose. "This was the first game I ever completed."

Vlad glanced at the title, ' _Killer Vampires from Mars_ '. It figured.

"Yeah, right," someone scoffed behind them. Vlad turned, seeing a boy about the same height as Robin. He had dark hair cut so it fell limply across either side of his forehead, half obscuring the acne underneath. "Whatever."

At his shoulder stood another boy wearing a crisp white T-shirt and pale blue jeans, greasy blond hair pushed back from his face, the ends flicking out where they were tucked behind his ears.

They were both staring at him and Robin like they'd just touched down from outer space.

Robin, never good at self preservation, drew himself up to his full height. "Are you calling me a liar?"

The dark haired boy looked him up and down, then smirked. "Yeah, I am. That game's only just come out. There's no way you could 'ave completed it."

"Well you're wrong then, aren't you?" Robin countered. "Nobody can play this game like I can."

"Wanna prove it?"

"I'll annihilate you."

"Alright then," the boy nudged his friend, grinning, "You're on."

 

* * *

 

"My name's Gethin by the way," the dark haired boy said by way of introduction as he led them down the steps towards the subway, "and this is Daz."

"Daz?" Robin asked, with a hint of a snicker.

"Short for Darren," Daz elaborated, seemingly oblivious to Robin's mockery. "What about you two then? I ain't seen you round here before."

"We're, er, visiting," Vlad told him hurriedly. This was such a terrible idea. He'd seen it once on television, before the Count had put his foot through it. You couldn't interact with people in the past, it messed everything up. Robin should know that better than anyone, he thought, with all the time he spent in front of the TV.

"I'm Robin," Robin said cheerily, just to make Vlad feel worse. "And this is Vlad. We go to the same school."

"Where's that then?" Gethin grinned. "1986? Seriously,  _what_  are you wearing?"

Robin glanced down at his habitual head to toe black, and the clumpy boots Mrs. Branagh complained were ruining the kitchen lino. "The girls love it, don't they?"

Gethin looked pointedly back at Vlad, "Do they?"

Robin glared and Vlad couldn't keep the smile off his face as he shook his head. "Not at all."

Daz and Gethin laughed, even Robin's lips twitched, and the worried knot in his gut eased somewhat. Maybe everything would sort itself out. Maybe he was just dreaming, really deeply, and he'd wake up any moment to find Renfield leaning over him with his morning bowl of entrails. Maybe –

They turned into Robin's street and Gethin nodded at two women sat on the doorstep of the Branagh's house, toddlers playing at their feet, before flinging his arms wide at the house next door. "Here we are then, home sweet home!"

Robin gaped and Vlad fought the urge to faint.  _Maybe_  this was the worst day of his entire life.

 

* * *

 

"Bit cold to be sat out here, ain't it Mrs. B?" Daz called, leaning on the fence.

"Just getting some fresh air," the older of the two women called back. She turned her attention to Gethin, "Your dad's gone out for a run with Graham, he'll be back soon so make sure your room's half tidy."

"Aw, what? We want to play on the megadrive," Gethin clapped Robin across the shoulder. "Lad here reckons he can beat me on  _Killer Vampires from Mars_!"

Vlad watched as Mrs. Branagh, and it  _was_  Mrs. Branagh, got to her feet awkwardly, very obviously pregnant. "I dread to think what they'll have when my three get to your age."

Gethin grinned and elbowed the front door open, gesturing for them to follow him.

Once inside Vlad caught hold of Robin's sleeve as the other two boys bounded up the stairs, pulling him close so he could pitch his voice for him alone.

"This is serious, Robin. We shouldn't be here. We've got to do something!"

"We've not even been born yet," Robin told him, tone awed. "This is incredible."

"You're not listening!" Vlad hissed, running one hand through his hair. He was scared. Really,  _really_  scared. "We  _have_  to do something. I'm going to be a vampire this time tomorrow!"

Vlad was horrified to feel the familiar sting of tears, the ache in his throat from the effort of keeping them back. If he were to turn here, who would stop him if he couldn't control it? Who would save Robin from becoming elevenses?

Robin's expression softened then, understanding finally falling across his features. He put his hands on Vlad's shoulders, leaning in and forcing Vlad to meet his gaze. "It's going to be alright, Vlad. I promise." Vlad opened his mouth to protest but Robin kept talking, "We're in the past, yeah?"

Vlad nodded reluctantly.

"Well, you can't get any older in the past, can you? You wished to never become a vampire. You won't here, will you? You'll just stay the same age as you are now."

Robin smiled encouragingly and Vlad frowned. His logic sounded far from foolproof.

"Look," Robin said, and Vlad noted the way his thumbs were rubbing small circles across his shoulders, "Whatever happens, I'll be with you. I'm not going to let anything bad happen. Trust me?"

His gaze was intense and Vlad struggled to do anything other than stare back at Robin, hyper aware of the other boy's hands upon him. Without any real conscious thought he leaned closer, close enough to smell the tang of Robin's shampoo under his liberally applied aftershave, close enough to –

"Oi!" Gethin called down the narrow stairwell. "Are you two coming or what?"

 

* * *

 

"Right then," Robin cracked his knuckles, holding his hand out for the pad, "let me show you losers how a real master plays."

Vlad watched curiously, at the cubed graphics and the way Robin twisted the pad in his hands, reacquainting himself with it. It was nothing like Call of Duty.

Two hours later he was still watching, for the lack of anything better to do. There was sweat forming across Robin's brow, his jaw set determinedly as he pummelled at the control pad.

"Impressive," Daz commented as the end of the level flashed across the screen. Robin swiped his sweat slick palms across his jeans, and Gethin worked out the kinks in his fingers. Vlad wondered how many more levels there could possibly be.

"You never could best my high score," Robin said confidently, and Vlad frowned. The repetitive music was clearly getting to his head.

"Boys," there was a knock at the door. "Can I come in?"

"What do you want, Mam?" Gethin called, pulling a face.

The woman Mrs. Branagh had been sat with earlier opened the door, a dark haired toddler squirming at her hip.

"How do you fancy earning some pocket money tonight? Only I need someone to babysit Dyfan."

Gethin scowled, "No way. We're going out."

"Sandra's party's tonight," Daz grinned by way of explanation and Gethin flushed red.

"What about your friends then?" She asked, eyeing up first Vlad, and then Robin. Her calculating gaze reminded Vlad of his own mother. She'd always been trying to palm him and Ingrid off on anyone who would have them. Gypsies, zombies, flesh eating ghouls. He glared at her and hoped it made her feel guilty.

"Nah," Gethin answered for them, "Except they'll be coming with us, won't you lads? Everyone's gonna be there."

"Well," his mum sighed, brushing her short hair back from her face, "so long as your father doesn't find out. You know what he gets like."

Gethin shook his head, turning back to the game and resuming play.

"Don't sweat it."

 

* * *

 

"Hey, mister! Get us a flagon, yeah? We got the money."

The man shook his head, glaring at them, before making his way into the off-licence. Vlad recognised him as the games teacher from the school they had played against at their last away match. His  _last_  away match. He met Robin's gaze imploringly. Trying to get teachers to buy them drink – they were going to get into so much trouble.

Robin misread his expression and grinned widely. "Listen, boys, give Vlad the money and let him get it."

"You must be jesting!" Gethin exclaimed. "He looks the youngest of all of us!" Vlad bristled but the other boy went on, "He'll never get served. We'll 'ave the police round here and," he smirked, "they'll get one look at your get-up and that'll be that. We'll all be back home cleaning up baby sick."

Daz grimaced for emphasis.

"Trust me," Robin assured, "Nobody ever questions Vlad, not when he's got  _that_ look about him." Robin was smiling proudly at him and Vlad knew he was going to do it. No matter how stupid and illegal it was, he was going to walk in there and hypnotise the guy behind the counter into selling him alcohol. And he was going to do it for no other reason than the fact it would impress Robin.

He felt pathetic.

The others gave him the thumbs up through the shop window as he approached the till, nerves making his grip on the bottles slippy.

"Got any I.D.?" A bored looking man dressed in a tie dyed T-shirt asked him. "No I.D., no booze. That's the way it works."

"Yes," Vlad squeaked, quickly clearing his throat. "I mean, yes, yes I have." He stared at the man as he said it, feeling the power flow through him in waves as his eyes went glassy.

"Yes, yes, you have."

Vlad clapped the money down on the counter and left without looking back, heart pounding as he stumbled back into the cool evening air.

"You did it!" Daz sounded surprised.

"Of course he did it," Robin said, sliding one arm around Vlad's shoulders. "I told you he would." Robin smiled at him and Vlad let himself press closer to Robin's side. "This is better than mitching," Robin whispered in his ear as Gethin took the bag from Vlad's fingers, "now you get to act like a hellraiser before, well, you become a hellraiser."

Vlad didn't know if it was the reminder, or Robin's warm breath on his skin, or simply the cold, but the words made him shiver.

 

* * *

 

By the time they reached Sandra's house the bottles were empty. Robin was leaning heavily against him, face flushed. Vlad couldn't help but giggle every time Robin stumbled and wrapped his own arm around Robin's middle.

A pretty red haired girl answered the door, sweeping her gaze across their group and smiling when it landed on Gethin. "Alright boys? Come in."

The music was very loud, and Vlad didn't recognise it. Robin seemed to though, sniggering happily, taking more drink from the kitchen dropping down into the first vacant seat they came across and pulling Vlad with him.

"Can't believe it," Robin told him, gesturing towards where Gethin and the redhead were swapping spit. "She's actually quite fit. You wouldn't think it now." His brow furrowed for a moment in consideration. "Then. You know what I mean." Robin collapsed into laughter and Vlad leaned closer to yell in his ear,

"I don't!"

"That's Gethin!" Robin told his as if that should explain everything. "You know, Gethin. Here," Robin handed him the bottle, "Drink some of this."

"I don't think I should." Vlad said, but took it anyway. He felt warm and contented, squeezed so close to Robin he was almost in his lap. He tilted the bottle to his lips and took a long swallow, moving to rest his head against Robin's shoulder.

"That's it, Vlad," Robin encouraged. "Live a little. What's the worst that could happen?"

 

* * *

 

"Come on, son, what's the worst that could happen? Let's 'ave your name."

Vlad looked towards the door helplessly. He supposed the policeman was right. It really couldn't get much worse. Neighbours must have complained about the noise, he supposed. With no parents on hand to come pick them up, they'd been taken to the police station.

He wished his head were clearer.

"Your name?" the constable pressed stubbornly.

The mousey woman who had been assigned as his suitable adult touched a gentle hand to his arm, "You 'ave to tell them, love."

Vlad looked down at the table, biting at his lip. Honesty was the best policy, wasn't it? That's what they said at school. But, right now, he wasn't at school.

The door crashed open and Vlad felt his stomach sink still lower. It was the man who had been with Robin's dad, the one Robin had insulted. Except now he was dressed in a sergeant's uniform and glowering at him like he was something nasty he had found on the bottom of his shoe.

"You again," Bryn said, exhaling harshly through his nose. "I'll take over here, constable."

The policeman nodded, getting up from behind the desk and standing against the wall obediently.

"I've had just about as much nonsense today as I'm going to take," Bryn told him, sitting down opposite him, expression threatening. "Now, tell me your name."

Vlad nodded tightly to himself, mind made up. "Vladimir Dracula. Sir."

Bryn's fist clenched at his side, face turning an alarming shade of red. "Don't mess me about, son. I know your sort," he jabbed a finger at Vlad, "hoodlums, you are. Running wild, no respect for your elders, no respect for yourself! I blame the parents – "

There was a knock at the door and Bryn yelled tersely, "Come!"

"Sir," the female constable started, looking nervous as she leaned down to speak in hushed tones. If Vlad weren't a vampire, he wouldn't have been able to hear her.

"Your son is in custody."

 

* * *

 

Ten minutes later the same woman came back for him, leading him through the corridor to meet Robin and Gethin; Daz's parents had already taken him home. They hadn't done anything wrong, the police said, so they couldn't hold them. Vlad felt inordinately relieved they didn't know about his earlier stint at the off licence.

"I've rang my mam," Robin told him by way of greeting, the words slow and slurred, testament to how much more than him he had drunk. "She's going to come an' get us."

"You've what!" Vlad hissed, suddenly fearful. "But you can't have!"

"Everything alright here, lads?" The constable who had been conducting his interview asked. Vlad forced a tight smile.

"Fine, thank you."

"My mam's coming for us," Robin told him, leaning heavily against Vlad.

"And what about your mam?" The constable asked Vlad pointedly. "Where is she?"

"I don't know, Sir." Vlad said truthfully. "She left my dad and now I don't see her."

The constable shifted uncomfortably. "Right, ah, well, don't let me see you in here again, alright?"

Vlad didn't get chance to answer.

 

* * *

 

"Thanks for this, Elizabeth," Bryn said, red faced on the steps of the station, "I don't know what came over him."

Mrs. Branagh shot Gethin an understanding smile before schooling her face into a serious expression. "We all have our moments, Bryn."

"Hmm."

Bryn didn't sound convinced.

"Come on then," Mrs. Branagh said, jangling her car keys. "You're lucky Graham was back or you'd have had to have waited until your dad finished his shift." She smiled, "I must say, you've got some cheek Gethin Branagh, ringing me instead of your mam."

"I didn't ring –"

Vlad sucked in a sharp breath, tapping Gethin on the shoulder and shaking his head before the other boy could give them away. Thankfully he didn't even protest. Gethin clambered into the car and Vlad wondered why he hadn't realised sooner. He'd seen the boy's picture hundreds of times before, all of them actually, lining the Branagh's walls.

Robin had always said he'd get to meet the rest of his family. This just hadn't been the way in which he'd envisaged it.

Mrs. Branagh dropped Gethin off first, jovially telling him he had to face the music. Then she twisted round in her seat, "Where can I drop you two trouble makers off then?"

Robin just squirmed closer to Vlad, head lolling against his shoulder. "I want to go home now, Vlad. I've had enough of it here."

Vlad was horribly aware of the way Mrs. Branagh was watching them and patted at Robin's hand awkwardly. "Erm, we can just walk from here, it's alright."

"Don't be silly," Mrs. Branagh admonished. "I can take you there."

"No," Vlad shook his head, "you can't."

Mrs. Branagh looked concerned, "Will your parents be very angry."

"I don't know," Vlad said after a moment's consideration. You could never tell with his dad. Realising he wasn't helping the cause he backtracked, "Don't worry about us, seriously. We'll just walk."

Mrs. Branagh turned the engine off, fixing him with the look that always made Vlad break down and tell her the truth about what Robin was up to, or if he'd really had anything for tea.

"Nobody can help you if you don't ask for it," she told him gently. "Tell me the truth." Vlad clenched his eyes shut, clinging hopelessly to Robin's arm for support. Mrs. Branagh went on, tone still soft, "Have you two run away? Is that what this is about?"

The relief was immediate. "Yeah," Vlad choked out, "yeah, that's right. We've run away."

* * *

And, so, twenty minutes later he found himself in Robin's bedroom. Except it wasn't Robin's bedroom, because Robin hadn't been born yet. There was a cot in pieces leant against the far wall, and a dresser with a tin of bright yellow paint, a paint roller and a bright pink bunny rabbit on top of it.

The single bed had blankets rather than a duvet and Robin had stripped down to his underwear and his T-shirt, one arm curled around him, head laid on Vlad's chest. Vlad wished he could ascribe the ache in his chest to the extra weight.

But he couldn't.

It was marrow deep, radiating outwards all through his body. Robin had no idea what he was doing to him, he was sure of it. How his body heat, the press of his long limbs against his own made his pulse race. How he wanted nothing more than to pull Robin still closer, to bring their mouths together and  _show_  Robin the effect he had on him. Robin burrowed closer,

"Go to sleep, Vlad. We might be home when we wake up."

"I hope so," Vlad whispered, reaching over and turning off the bedside lamp.

"Or," Robin went on, yawning, "maybe it'll be like Groundhog Day an', tomorrow, we'll 'ave to do it all over again."

Vlad shook his head. Another day like this would kill him.

* * *

The next morning he woke up to find himself in Robin's arms. Nice as it was, it meant he wasn't at home. He kept still however, ignoring his dead arm, and the way Robin was dribbling onto his shirt. Robin was worth it.

Eventually Robin opened his eyes, squirming and wriggling and complaining that he was hungry.

They got dressed and Vlad washed his face, combing his fingers through his hair in an attempt to look respectable. Robin didn't bother. When they got downstairs they found Mr. and Mrs. Branagh huddled together in the living room, listening to Robin's iPod. Vlad strained his ears, just picking up the sound of heavy drums and screaming.

Mr. Branagh looked at his wife in disgust, "I still say you shouldn't have. It's  _illegal_." Mrs. Branagh gave him a dark look but he went on obliviously, "I blame the parents, I really do."

Vlad bit back a smirk and Robin coughed to announce his presence.

Mr. Branagh dropped the equipment hastily, coughing to hide his embarrassment. Mrs. Branagh smiled at them. "I haven't seen one like that before, puts my new discman to shame!"

"Must have cost a fortune," Mr. Branagh added suspiciously.

Vlad plastered a false smile across his face. "That's Robin for you, loves gadgets, don't you?" There was no answer. He nudged Robin, not missing the way the other boy was looking around the room wistfully, "Don't you?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Totally."

"Breakfast!" Mrs. Branagh beamed, clapping her hands together and bustling from the room, encouraging the two of them to trail after them.

Vlad couldn't help but hear Mr. Branagh's murmured, 'totally, my eye', on the way out.

* * *

"What's that?" Vlad asked, eyeing up the plateful of unidentifiable meat Mrs. Branagh was setting down in front of her husband. He couldn't place the smell at all.

"They're Quorn," Mrs. Branagh said proudly. "Graham's given up meat."

Robin snickered, and Vlad remembered Mr. Branagh telling him once that Mrs. Branagh had been very militant about it all before Robin was born. Mr. Branagh looked sheepish and Vlad shot him a smile, he hoped it was saying 'I won't tell her you were eating a Big Mac yesterday' and not 'I'm an idiot'.

She then handed him and Robin plates full of what was very definitely bacon. He didn't miss Mr. Branagh's look of envy.

"So," Robin started, speaking around his food, "You're 'aving a baby?"

Vlad shook his head. Could Robin fish any more obviously? He'd be on about how he was sure the baby would be the most awesome being in the history of ever in a minute.

"Yes," Mrs. Branagh smiled, "a boy."

"Brother," Ian said, smearing a handful of pureed baby mush into his hair.

"That's right!" Mrs. Branagh congratulated, trying to get him to take the spoon instead.

Vlad smiled to himself, he was never going to be able to look at the twins in the same way again. If, the sobering thought assaulted him, they got back.

"You must be really pleased," Robin went on, preening. "'Ave you picked a name yet?"

"Well," Mrs. Branagh said, "we were all certain it was going to be a girl and I had my heart set on Robyn, with a 'y', didn't I Graham?"

Mr. Branagh 'hmmed' noncommittally.

Robin looked horrified. "Robin's not a girl's name!"

"It was going to be with a 'y'," Mr. Branagh reminded him. Mrs. Branagh nodded.

Vlad almost choked on his bacon.

* * *

"I remember this," Robin told him excitedly after breakfast, pointing at the television screen in the living room. Vlad tried to focus, the colours blurring across his vision. He swallowed thickly, feeling suddenly faint and shaky.

"Vlad?" Robin asked, but it sounded far away. " _Vlad!_ "

He reached for Robin blindly, fingers scrabbling at air. And then everything went black.

* * *

"Oh, thank God!"

Vlad squinted; vision slowly clearing until he could make out Robin's concerned features.

"Are you alright? I thought you were dying!"

Pain thrummed in his head and Vlad grimaced, grateful for the brush of Robin's fingers against his own.

"I am."

"Serious?" Robin hissed, shifting closer. "Are you sure?"

Vlad clenched his fingernails into his palm, trying to distract his mind from the pain in his head and the frantic stuttering of his heart in his chest.

"I'm sure." He breathed deeply, carefully. "We need to get back, this is too dangerous."

Robin met his gaze, expression solemn. "Can you remember the spell you used?"

* * *

Vlad wasn't sure how much time had passed but, when he next awoke, there were cool fingers pushing his hair back from his fevered brow.

"Robin?" He croaked, forcing his eyes open.

"He's gone to fetch your dad," a woman's voice soothed. Vlad could just make out the blonde of Mrs. Branagh's hair. "You mustn't do this again," Mrs. Branagh chastised softly, "run away, I mean. Not when you need medication. I bet your dad is worried sick."

"Maybe," Vlad conceded weakly.

"Definitely," Mrs. Branagh said. "If anything happened to one of mine I don't know what I'd do."

"They're only babies," Vlad wheezed. He couldn't draw enough air into his lungs, no matter how hard he tried. They were giving up, he knew. He wasn't going to need them for much longer.

Mrs. Branagh's hand fluttered anxiously over his hair. "They'll be back soon, it's alright."

Vlad tried to nod, tried to fight down the rising fear. Mrs. Branagh took his hand and he squeezed back gratefully.

"Look," Mrs. Branagh said hesitantly, as if she'd been mulling the words over for some time and still didn't know if they would be welcome. "I know it's none of my business, but you do love him, don't you?"

"Robin?" Vlad asked, coughing with the effort. He couldn't tell her. He  _couldn't_. She was Robin's mum.

Mrs. Branagh smiled, "And he loves you, anyone can see that." At the shocked look on Vlad's face she went on, "There's nothing wrong with it, it's just that you're both so young."

Vlad looked away. You were as old as you felt, that was what his dad always said. In that case he was about a thousand.

"I'm sure your dad will come to understand, if the two of you show him how mature you can be."

There was the sound of the front door opening and closing, and footsteps lumbering up the stairs.

"Promise me you'll try to make it work at home, at least."

Robin burst through the door, short of breath and cheeks flushed, and Vlad glanced between him and Mrs. Branagh.

"I promise."

* * *

"Vlad," Robin panted, "you're going to 'ave to try harder to walk. I can't carry you. Not uphill!"

Vlad grimaced. He  _was_  trying! The pain in his chest was awful, competing with the rhythmic pounding against his skull.

"Come on," Robin urged, "we're nearly there. We 'ave to get back so you can gloat about this. Stealing, drinking, a night in a police cell. Ingrid won't 'ave anything on you, Vlad."

Vlad smiled in spite of himself and forced one foot in front of the other, Robin still supporting most of his weight. When they finally reached the castle he let for forehead rest against the cold stone, chest heaving.

Robin tugged at his arm and made him sit on the floor. "You've got to say the right words, Vlad," he told him anxiously. "If this goes wrong we could both end up dead.  _Dead_  dead."

"I know," he managed, letting Robin light the tea lights – where he'd gotten them, he had no idea – and then taking hold of both his hands, reciting the words as clearly as he could, what with his lungs expiring on him.

There was a lurching, nothing like the first time he'd said it, and he could do nothing but cling tighter to Robin.

It felt never ending, off kilter and sickening. And then the ground beneath him was solid once more.

"Vlad?" Robin murmured in his ear.

"Vlad?" Someone else asked behind him.

Finally, his dad's voice bellowed around the room. "Vladimir!"

And, then, there was blissful silence.

* * *

"Come on, bat breath, I've got things to do."

"Ingrid!" The Count snapped.

"Vlad, are you dead yet?"

"Branagh, don't you have somewhere else to be. The bottom of a ditch perhaps?"

" _Ingrid_ ," Vlad attempted, awareness flooding through him. He raised a hand to his mouth to feel fangs, and when he touched the pads of his fingers to the inside of his wrist there was no pulse.

"Your reflection's waiting," the Count told him, over Ingrid's shoulder. "I've 400 peasant pounds riding on this with your Uncle Ivan!"

"I know you can do it, Vlad," Robin assured. "You 'ave to. I'd look well cool with fangs."

"And  _if_  you get out intact," Ingrid smiled - too sweetly - at him, leading him down towards the blood mirror room, "don't think I've not noticed where my expensive banshee blood went."

They were in front of the entrance now, the guards stepping clear. Vlad turned back to look at his dad and Robin, encouraging grin plastered across the latter's face, and sighed.

He should have worked it out sooner. There was no such thing as choice in his life.

Unlife.

* * *

**Epilogue:**

Robin wouldn't be home yet, Vlad knew. But he had to get out of the castle, out of the crypt and away from his dad's accusing glare. As he had told him again just that morning, he was being completely unfair. He reeked of black magic and he wouldn't share the story.

It wasn't that he was trying to keep it a secret – Ingrid had worked it out in minutes. – he just didn't want to talk about it yet. At least not until he'd spoken about it with Robin. It had been a whole week since he'd last seen him, and the times before that he had been either half passed out or unable to focus on anything but how desperately he wanted to sink his fangs into Robin's jugular.

He thought of the concern on Robin's face when he had been ill, and the way his hand had felt curled in his own. Of the ache that lingered still in his chest and how glad he was that his reflection hadn't bested him, that the way he felt about Robin hadn't changed.

So, here he was, stood on the Branagh's doorstep staring up at the darkened mid afternoon sky. He had no idea what he'd do in summer when he'd be stuck indoors for hours and hours at a time. He supposed he'd be busy soon, with Council and ruling and being a vampire.

The thought made him feel vaguely ill.

Mrs. Branagh answered the door, eyes wide as she took in his deathly pale complexion. "He's not home yet," she confirmed, "but you can wait in his room. He'll be so happy to see you."

Vlad smiled, hoping it was true – hoped it would still be true later that evening after he'd spilled his guts to Robin - forcibly keeping his gaze on Mrs. Branagh's face rather than her neck. He had a foot on the stairs when the sound of his name had him turning around.

Mrs. Branagh met his gaze calmly, smile still in place, "You are going to tell him, Vlad, aren't you? I haven't forgotten."

Vlad frowned in confusion and Mrs. Branagh shook her head and made her way into the kitchen.

"You promised me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	100. Robin/Vlad, First - Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the 'first/last' prompt on my 2013 trope bingo card.

The first time he kissed Robin, it felt like something out of a fairy tale.

It had been warm, the summer sky as blue as in a picture book, and his heart had pounded in his chest, his breath coming in short, frantic bursts as they chastely pressed their lips together.

He had been waiting forever, or so it had seemed, and now that it was actually happening Vlad was certain that nothing, not the names they called him at school, nor the constant worrying about what the future might hold, could spoil it.

Robin had been embarrassed afterwards, cheeks burning and gaze shy, even as he awkwardly linked their fingers. Vlad had beamed, unable not to, content to simply sit silently in the other boy's company.

"So," Robin had finally asked him on his doorstep, striving for nonchalant but succeeding only at nervous, "does this mean we're together, then?"

Vlad had leaned in close, kissed him again in answer, and spent the night grinning dopily at his ceiling, head full of the way Robin's face had lit up as he answered,

_"Awesome."_

* * *

The last time he kissed Robin, it felt like something out of a nightmare.

It had been cold, the sky grey and overcast, and had it been able to his heart would have been pounding. He could sense Robin's pulse, fluttering too rapidly beneath delicate skin, and he could smell the heady mix of his fear and adrenaline, see the sheen of sweat across his clammy forehead.

"It doesn't have to be like this," he said, tone deceptively calm, and Robin only sneered at him, hate twisting his handsome features, and tightened the grip on the stake he was holding still further.

This wasn't the reunion Vlad had once so longingly pictured, nor the second chance he had once so fervently dreamed of.

"You're a monster, Vlad," Robin told him, eyes glinting with the kind of madness that came with witnessing too much violence, and with losing too many of those closest to you. Vlad understood it only too well. "You never meant anything to me."

His words were a lie - they had to be - and too easily Vlad switched their position, so that Robin was the one pressed back against the wall, and he was the one in control of the situation.

The kiss was neither chaste nor sweet. Their teeth clashed together and Robin bit down hard at his lip, the blood smearing across his chin and awakening urges so dark and unspeakable Vlad was sure his teenage self wouldn't even have been able to imagine them.

"Go on then," Robin challenged, disgust writ as clear in his voice as in his expression. "We both know it's what you've always wanted."

The rest was a blur. The metallic taste of blood, and the anguished cries that slowly, so very slowly, gave way to silence.

Robin fell to the floor, lifeless, when it was over, and sightless eyes stared up into his own, accusing.

There was nothing he could do to make it better, nothing he could say, but still he repeated the words over and over, wishing he could rid himself once and for all of memories of blue sky and shy smiles.

"I'm sorry, Robin. I'm so sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	101. Robin / Vlad, 'Rest in Peace'.

“I used to really love you, you know?”

Robin doesn’t answer, and Vlad can’t say it surprises him. What sort of response could anyone expect from that?

He carries on regardless, the words forcing their way past the ache in his throat and out through his mouth,

“Sometimes I think I still do. Stupid, isn’t it?”

There’s still no response, nothing but silence so total it’s deafening and the sharp sting of unshed tears. 

“I always meant to tell you,” Vlad tells him, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to Robin’s ice-cold cheek. “I just left it too late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	102. Robin / Vlad, first kiss.

"Robin…" Vlad starts slowly, nervously.

"Hmm?" Robin responds distractedly, rifling through Vlad's CD collection with a look of disgust.

Vlad wrings his hands together and forces the words out, "Apart from Ingrid have you ever – I mean – " This would be such a stupid thing to suggest, he knows. Such an idiotic, dangerous,  _stupid_  thing to do. But the chance that it  _might_  work has the ability to leave him breathless, stomach fluttering in excitement, all the same.

" - Have you ever kissed anyone?"

Robin meets his gaze in obvious confusion. "What? Yeah, course I 'ave." Tone suspicious he went on, "Why wouldn't I 'ave?"

"I just," Vlad feels himself blush, "I haven't."

"That's 'cos you don't try hard enough," Robin says knowingly, slumping down onto the bed next to him. "I told you, that girl in art likes you." He grins, "The one who wears the  _short_  skirts."

Vlad manages a strained smile in return, "Yeah, sounds, er, great." Before he can lose his nerve completely he goes on, "But I wouldn't know what to do."

"Well," Robin frowns, "you'll just pick it up as you go along I expect."

"But what if I don't?" Vlad whines. "I'm not as good at learning things as you are." There's nothing wrong with a white lie.

Robin, he can see, is pleased with that statement. The taller boy shrugs, half bashful, half smug, "Yeah, well, not everyone can be as awesome as me."

"I know," Vlad says, laying it on thick. "That's why I thought we could – you could  _teach me_."

Robin blanches. "T-teach you?" He stuttered out.

Vlad nods. "Who better? You're my best friend, you won't laugh at me. And, like you said, you've kissed loads of people. You'll know what you're doing."

"Yeah…" Robin shifts uncomfortably. Ignoring the stab of his guilty conscience Vlad pushes still further,

"You have kissed loads of people, haven't you?"

Reluctantly, Robin nods. Vlad grins in triumph, knowing he has Robin cornered. "So you can teach me, then?"

"Alright," Robin sighs, carefully avoiding Vlad's gaze. "I suppose I can. Anything to stop you nagging me."

"What should I do?" Vlad asks, shifting forward eagerly, not giving Robin chance to change his mind.

"Just, er, sit still," Robin instructs, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Like this?"

"Yeah," Robin bites at his lip, anxiety written all across his expressive face. As if aware of what he's giving away he stammers, "I think you should close your eyes." Vlad does so obediently, waiting impatiently for the next step.

It seems like an eternity before anything else happens; an eternity in which all he can hear are two sets of uneven breathing and the hammering of his own heart. Then, finally, the bed dips as Robin moves closer, hesitant fingers touching the skin of his cheek. Vlad swallows harshly, committing it all to memory, as Robin's lips crashes against his own.

The kiss is clumsy, the angle awkward and Vlad so nervous he can scarcely think. There's a moment where it's less chaste, where he can taste the lingering sweetness of chocolate on Robin's tongue, and it makes his head swim. He didn't know what he'd been expecting but the desperate thrill that shoots through him, the clamour for  _more_  – although he's not entirely sure more  _what_  – wasn't it.

It's barely begun when Robin pulls away, coughing and fidgeting in embarrassment. "See, just kind of like that. But, you know, with a girl and stuff."

Vlad nods silently, struggling to stay calm in the face of Robin's obvious indifference. He's got no-one to blame but himself. It was a  _stupid_  idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	103. Ingrid/Paul/Ian, share and share alike.

“You can’t be serious?” Ingrid had sneered, eyeing them up and down with her customary disdain.

But they had been, deadly. It wouldn’t be a new thing, they were used to sharing. Clothes, beds, even dirty magazines. 

And, so, they had grinned at each other in triumph, even as Ingrid twisted her hands cruelly into their hair, directing where, and when, and how they moved against her. 

“You’re disgusting,” Ingrid told them afterwards, “both of you.”

They had shared a look then, and high-fived once her bedroom door was closed. She’d be back for more, and they both knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	104. Robin / Vlad, Vlad isn't stalking, just checking up on Robin...

"He's heavier than he looks!"

The door crashed against the wall and light flooded the room. Vlad squinted, even from the dark confines of his hiding place; he didn't really need the light anymore and rarely dared to switch it on when he made these visits. The risk of being caught was too great.

"Just chuck him on the bed."

Vlad shifted, hauling his foot in under the desk, as the two boys struggled past with Robin's unresisting form in their arms. The smell of alcohol emanating from him was so strong, Vlad could scarcely detect Robin's own scent underneath it. He hoped that Robin didn't make a habit of drinking to such excess. He hated the thought of Robin making his self ill.

"Do you think someone should stay with him?" asked the taller of the two boys, in a thick northern accent. " _Look_  at the state he's in." The concern in his voice was so evident that Vlad had to bite back a possessive growl. If anyone was going to watch over Robin, it would be him.

"He'll be alright," the other boy said dismissively. "Just let him sleep it off."

With that the pair of them left, the door clicking shut behind them. Vlad crawled out from underneath the desk, narrowly avoiding hitting his head on the underside as he stood up. He should have just left as soon as he heard the footsteps in the hallway, but, he had no restraint. Not when it came to catching a glimpse of Robin, at least.

Cautiously, he moved closer to Robin, unsure whether the other boy was conscious or not. A part of him hoped he was; Robin was so drunk he would never remember Vlad being there, in his room, uninvited. He thought longingly of the soft kisses they had once shared and Vlad wondered whether Robin remembered them at all, or if they had been too deeply associated with vampires in Robin's mind. Perhaps, even if that wasn't the case, they hadn't meant enough to Robin for him still to think of it, so many years on…

"Eurgh," Robin groaned, and Vlad froze. He  _should_  leave – right now. His indecision stretched out and, then, it was too late. Robin shifted and attempted to focus on him, his eyes dark and wide. Vlad sucked in an unnecessary breath. He hadn't had that gaze directed at him since leaving Stokely, since forcing Robin to forget about him. The shivers it sent through him were no less powerful than they had been when he was fourteen and desperately in love.

"Robin?" Vlad spoke quietly, "do you know who I am?"

Vlad carefully touched the back of his fingers to Robin's fevered forehead. His mind raced, this would be the perfect timing; the opposition forces had finally been beaten into submission, his position as Grand High Vampire at last secure. If Robin  _did_  know, they could be friends again. If Robin really remembered, maybe they could be more. If he didn't… it didn't bear thinking about. How would be ever be anything more to Robin than some half mad stalker, who crept into his bedroom in the dead of night just to watch him sleep?

Robin peered up at him, his gaze intense in spite of its obvious drunken quality. Vlad waited anxiously. He was certain that whatever happened in the next few moments would be profound, would shape the course of the rest of his unlife.

" _Vlad_." Robin finally bleated, his eyes clenching shut, his skin feeling clammy under Vlad's fingertips. "Oh God." And, then, he was being sick. Violently sick.

'Profound' indeed, Vlad couldn't help but think later as he sat, perched on the edge of Robin's bed, rubbing comforting circles across the other boy's back. It might not have been the romance he would have wished for, but - and it was a big but - Robin  _did_  recognise him. He couldn't stand, could barely remember his own name, but he had known who Vlad was. Had clung to him thankfully as Vlad had held him upright over the sink.

Vlad smiled and settled himself more comfortably. He was going to be there when Robin woke up; he'd get his profound moment. Even, Vlad thought ruefully, glancing at the pile of dirty clothes and bed linen on the floor, if it was only Robin's profound  _embarrassment_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	105. Robin / Vlad.

"I didn't want to be the one to have to tell you this, Vlad," Robin said one afternoon, tone solemn, "but I think your sister's a lesbian."

Vlad frowned, marking his place in the report he was reading. It was alright for Robin; some people had a job to do. Meeting Robin's gaze, he asked, "What are you going on about now?"

"Ingrid," Robin elaborated, "She's a lesbian."

"What makes you think that?" Vlad asked, mystified. Last time he'd seen Ingrid, just over twenty minutes ago, she had been busy flirting with the vampire who'd come round to canvass for the party in the upcoming Council elections.

Maybe, he thought, she was just doing it to spite him because she knew the party wanted him reduced to a little casket of dust. He wouldn't put it past her.

Robin soon put his concerns in that area to rest. "I've been asking her out for seven years now," he whined. "Why else would she keep saying no?"

Vlad gave him an incredulous look. If every woman who didn't want to go out with Robin was a lesbian, the human race would die out.

"Perhaps," he suggested, "she just doesn't fancy you. Ever thought of that?"

"All women fancy me, Vlad," Robin told him as if this were an undisputed fact of life. "I'm irresistible."

"Yeah," Vlad smirked. "Except to all those who can resist you."

Robin glared. "Seriously though, think about it. You see it in the films, all vampires are lesbians."

"I'm not a lesbian," Vlad protested. He didn't fancy girls at all.

"Vampiresses then!" Robin scowled. "Don't be so dense, Vlad!"

Vlad, wisely, said nothing. The silence stretched comfortably, and Vlad shifted across the bed until he was lying next to Robin on his stomach, chin propped in his hands.

"Why have you been asking Ingrid out again, anyway?"

"It was only," Robin said, blushing, "hypothetical."

"Hmm," Vlad responded, enjoying the way Robin was squirming in embarrassment. Served him right, he thought. He didn't go round asking Chloe if she would hypothetically like to go out with her brother's boyfriend. "Maybe," he suggested after a moment, "Ingrid had to say that so I wouldn't be annoyed. I am the Grand High Vampire, you know."

Robin brightened at that, "You really think so, Vlad?"

Vlad pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, and smiled sweetly,

"What do you think, Robin?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	106. Robin / Vlad, Vlad's only ever wanted to be normal.

Vlad has only ever wanted to be normal. It's been his only wish at every birthday, every Christmas, every time he looks at the night sky. Here, at the Branaughs', playing computer games with Robin, that wish is closer to becoming reality than it has ever been. And, it would be  _so_  perfect, Vlad thinks, if there wasn't one thing ruining the illusion.

Because, pressed tight up against Robin on the narrow bed, he should want to revel in the normalcy, be elated at the fit of the controller in his palm – and he would – were it not for the intermittent grunts from Robin as he concentrates on hitting the thumb pad in the right formation.

It's  _definitely_  the grunts that are ruining it, Vlad thinks. Well, that and the frustrated way Robin squirms against him as he pummels the playstation controller harder. And - and, the way Robin keeps licking his lips, all obscene wetness, and the way his hair curls over his ears. Robin whines in pleasure as Vlad's impaired concentration sees his pixellated counterpart get the upper hand. That  _something_  that has been hanging by a thread for weeks finally snaps.

"It's your fault!"

His controller sails through the air and smacks into the wall with a resounding crunch.

"I don't want to feel like this!"

Vlad's wondered if this is what blood lust will be like. The simmering excitement, the desperate wanting so close to the surface that it's a struggle to hide it. At night he dreams, horrid twisted dreams of himself all grown up, fangs tingling painfully in anticipation at the sight beneath him. It's always Robin in these dreams and Vlad is certain it shouldn't be. It should be Chloe or Delila or even Kelsey Peterson, she's in the sixth form and has a topless photograph of herself on her Myspace page.

But, no, in his dream he moves closer, the excitement mounting and mounting until his mouth is fixed on  _Robin's_  pulse point and the tang of blood is acrid and sweet on his tongue and Robin writhes beneath him, panting and whining like the girls in the films Ian and Paul sometimes let them watch.

Robin's mouth has fallen open in shock, and really, it would be comical if he wasn't so angry. As it is it serves only to infuriate him further. He wants to hit Robin. He wants to get as far away from him as he can. He wants to press closer.

"I-" Robin licks his lips again, for once seemingly lost for words. Vlad takes the opportunity to press his own lips against Robin's. It's awkward and chaste and over far too quickly and then – then the adrenaline leaves him and pure fear takes its place. Robin stares at him wide eyed. Vlad struggles to stay still, to not run, although every muscle in his body is tense in readiness. He braces himself for the fist, the insults, that he knows must be coming.

They never do.

Because, then, Robin is kissing him and it's so much better than before because Robin obviously has some idea of what he's doing. It's wet and it's strange and it's  _perfect_ , and the way Robin clutches at his shoulders when he experimentally bites at his lower lip is almost enough to make Vlad wonder - for the first time - if being normal is really all it's cracked up to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	107. Robin / Vlad, Vlad sets out to be a distraction.

“Aw, I love this scene,” Robin enthused, eyes bright as he watched it unfold.

“What is he doing?” Vlad asked, shaking his head at the image on the screen. They were sat close on Robin’s sofa, the only light coming from the television set. It felt comfortable and intimate, and Vlad inched closer still, waiting for an answer.

Robin gave him the look, the one which meant he was being stupid and, worse, blasphemous. He might be the real vampire but he’d come to learn that his silver screen counterparts were on a much higher pedestal, at least as far as Robin was concerned. 

He still loved to wind Robin up about it though, if only to get him all hot and flustered. There was nothing more endearing than the angry flush that inevitably settled across Robin’s features in such situations. With that in mind Vlad turned his focus back to the film,

“His fangs are too big for his mouth,” He noted, sneaking glances at Robin’s face, biting back his grin at the sight of Robin’s indignant gaping. “And, look, he’s such a messy eater.”

On the television Christopher Lee lifted his head, blood smeared all across his chin, and Robin made a weird noise in outrage. Or possibly something else. It sounded heartfelt, whatever it was.

“I’d like to see you do better,” Robin challenged when his voice was once more under control. “Lee’s like the – the master! He could only work with what they gave him.” Robin was shifting closer as he spoke, the heat of his breath against Vlad’s skin making it difficult for him to concentrate, even as Robin went on, “You have real fangs an’ you still can’t match up.”

“That’s not very nice,” Vlad pouted, although a smile threatened around the edges. No matter how many times they had this argument, Robin always rose to the bait. 

“It’s the truth!” Robin protested, colour flaring across his cheeks and, this time, Vlad didn’t try to fight the predatory smile which curled across his face in response. On screen the female lead was screaming, bosom heaving, as ‘Dracula’ leaned in to touch his lips to her pale neck.

Robin followed his line of vision and Vlad could hear the way his breathing hitched, the way his heartbeat sped up, thudding hard and fast in his chest. He wished it hadn’t taken him so long to work out what it was about vampirism Robin really found so fascinating. It would have made all those hours he’d spent, back when they were still at school, forced to watch one terrible vampire film after another a lot more interesting.

Then again, it just meant he’d have to try harder to make up for lost time.

He reached two fingers out to touch Robin’s jaw, forcing the other man’s gaze back to his face. Satisfied he had Robin’s full attention, Vlad swiped his tongue across his own fangs, just to see the way Robin’s eyes widened, the heat in his cheeks burning brighter.

“I could snap my fingers,” he took his hand away from Robin’s jaw to do just that, making sure to keep his voice low, smooth and persuasive, the way he was certain Robin imagined it on nights when he was away at Council, “and have you killed for speaking to me like that.” Robin knew he didn’t really mean it, of course – he’d sooner take a bath in holy water than let anyone so much as touch Robin – but he wasn’t above resorting to sneaky tactics to get his own way. “Doesn’t that tell you something about how powerful a vampire I am?”

“A real vampire,” Robin said, breathing laboured enough to convince Vlad he was on the same wavelength, “would do it themselves.”

“Is that right?” Vlad murmured, gaze flickering to Robin’s throat. He shifted forward, using one hand to push Robin back against the arm of the sofa, stretching out across him. He sniffed at Robin’s neck in emulation of his on screen namesake, and Robin shivered. Vlad arched an eyebrow, “Is that what you think I should do?”

Robin didn’t answer, just tangled hands into his hair and tugged, desperately, until their mouths were crushed together. Robin was always so hot, and Vlad squirmed against him, doing his best to remember that he was meant to be the one in charge. It was difficult when Robin’s hands were meandering all over the place, finally settling on his hips, grip tight as he ground up against him.

Vlad gave up on being the suave and distant vampire about then, pushing his hands up under Robin’s shirt, and swallowing Robin’s gasp at the touch of cold fingers on his heated skin. He could feel Robin’s heart hammering underneath his palm and, when Robin broke away from their kiss to concentrate on breathing, Vlad latched onto the column of his neck instead.

The pulse of blood so close to his tongue was intoxicating. Robin whined as he scraped the edge of his fang against sensitive skin, and he found himself grinding against Robin’s thigh without any trace of finesse, sucking wetly at the mark he was raising. Vlad could never quite manage to let the bruises fade, regularly spent hours absorbed in the crook of Robin’s neck, kissing and biting and touching until Robin couldn’t take it any longer, clamping a hand around his wrist and forcing him to take action.

It never failed to undo him, the urgency, Robin’s hips twitching helplessly, and his fingers digging into his skin, marking him in return. 

“Vlad,” Robin chose that moment to groan, arching his head back to give Vlad better access to his throat, “don’t stop.” Vlad responded by licking a stripe up the side of his neck, then biting down softly, in stark contrast to the hand he pushed between them, the heel of his palm pressed down firmly. Robin clenched his eyes shut, every muscle tensing, and then he was coming, shaking and panting beneath him.

It was enough to send him over the edge, it always was, and he barely had the presence of mind not to sink his fangs deep into Robin’s throat.

“You ‘ave to stop doing that,” Robin was murmuring when he came back to his senses. Vlad laid his head heavily on Robin’s chest and let Robin pet at his hair, the steady beat of his heart comforting in a way few other things were. “I never get to see the vampire be slayed.”

Vlad shifted at that, until he could look down into Robin’s face. "I know."

Robin frowned, questioning, and Vlad pressed a soft kiss to Robin’s cheek, hoping Robin understood how sincerely he meant it,

“That's the point.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	108. Robin / Vlad, for the prompt 'diary clichés'.

"Robin!" Mr. Branagh's voice rose up from the foot of the stairs and Robin grimaced, not bothering to look up from his sketchbook as he yelled back,

"What!?"

Vlad winced. He still hadn't got used to how sensitive his hearing was now he was a 'real' vampire.

"Come and put this mess away!" There was a pause. "Do I have to come up there?"

"Alright!" Robin sighed and glowered and made a show of throwing his sketchbook down in a fit of temper. "Be back now," he muttered in Vlad's general direction before storming from the room, his heavy footsteps on the stairs reverberating around Vlad's skull.

Fed up of Robin's magazine collection – vampires, vampires, crime, vampires, weird bands he couldn't pronounce the names of, more vampires – Vlad reached for Robin's sketchbook. He had to admit that Robin was pretty talented. It was just a shame he only used it to document the morbid and depressing. As he pulled it closer he dislodged Robin's pencil, causing it to roll under the bed.

He hesitated for a moment. Who knew  _what_  Robin might have under there? Six month old half eaten sandwiches and festering socks seemed the most likely candidates. Gingerly he stuck a hand into the space, carefully flexing his fingers in the hope of avoiding anything that should come with a health warning. Instead of the pencil his fingers curled around the spine of a book. Curious, he pulled it out into the dim light of Robin's bedroom.

The single word on the cover caught his attention and, at the sound of Robin's returning footsteps, had him shoving the book into his coat pocket rather than back under the bed. Had him looking away with guilt as Robin searched fruitlessly for his pencil, eventually giving in and getting another. Had his gut flipping with nervous anticipation every time he thought about it.

He had Robin's  _diary_.

* * *

"Mam!" Robin wailed, eyes slightly wild, the back of his shirt collar sticking up and his hair uncombed, as if he'd not had time to get dressed properly. "Have you been tidying my room again!?"

"Why's that, love?" Mrs. Branagh asked placidly, looking up from her breakfast. The rest of his family watched him curiously.

"There's something – a book – missing," Robin answered, not wanting everyone to know it was his diary. He felt sick to his stomach at the thought of anyone seeing what he'd written in it.

Paul tsked and grinned, "Rookie mistake, that. Keeping it under your mattress, were you?"

Ian sniggered.

"I'm sure it'll turn up," Mrs. Branagh said cluelessly. "It's always in the last place you look. Wasn't I saying that about those scout badges yesterday, Graham?"

"Hmmm," Mr. Branagh agreed around a mouthful of breakfast, "And all the time, they were in my kit box." His father shook his head, as if at the mysteries of life.

Mrs. Branagh smiled at him and Robin scowled back, glowering at each family member in turn before storming towards the door. They were all useless. When he had to return less than a minute later to collect his school bag from the kitchen floor, the twins howling with laughter, it just cemented what he'd already known.

Today was going to be a  _bad_  day.

* * *

"What have you got there?" Ingrid asked, as intrusively as ever, busy wrenching the legs off some – still horribly alive – mice. Vlad shuddered.

"It's none of your business."

Ingrid dunked the twitching limb in sherbet, sucking it back off and nodding, uncaring of the look of disgust on Vlad's face. "Give it here," she said, swiping hold of it before Vlad could stop her. She held it up and smirked,

"You keep a diary? What's in it, an ode to Branagh in 47 verses?"

Vlad shifted uncomfortably. "It's not mine." Ingrid smirked wider which only made him feel worse. He felt guilty enough as it was. He still hadn't opened it, unsure why he had even taken it in the first place. Robin might never forgive him if he found out.

Ingrid had no such qualms and dropped her mangled rodent, wiping her hands off on his jacket which was lying on the table, and opened the book,

" _It's_ _ **so**_ _unfair_ ," she started, overemphasising every word, " _the twins never need permission to stay out late. And Chloe never wants to anyway. So why do_ _ **I**_ _have to? I'll hardly ever get to see Vlad now_."

Ingrid looked up at him and said, mockingly, "Aw. Branagh misses you too."

"Just give it back," Vlad said, as authoritatively as he could. Mr. and Mrs. Branagh had been something approaching strict on the subject of nocturnal visits ever since that whole incident with Great Uncle Armand and Robin's broken arm. He generally just tried not to think about it.

"Ah-ah," Ingrid held her hand out signalling he should be quiet, the huge grin on her face suggesting she'd just seen something potentially embarrassing or ruinous to his person. Vlad glanced at her again and came to the conclusion it was probably both. "Don't you want to hear what Branagh's been writing about  _you_?"

He didn't need to answer.

* * *

It was lunchtime and he was putting the finishing touches to his latest piece of artwork when it finally dawned on him exactly where his diary was. It was so obvious now he thought about it. So obvious he was tempted to hole up in a corner somewhere and cry.

No wonder Vlad had left early the night before.

Horrified, his stomach churning, he wondered how much Vlad might have read, and whether there was  _any_  chance he'd still be speaking to him when he next saw him.

"Robin, are you alright?" Mr. Perkins was peering at him with a concerned expression. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I," Robin started, dropping his paintbrush and apron carelessly, making for the door, "I don't feel well."

* * *

"He didn't really write that," Vlad said, slightly shocked. "You're lying!"

"You can look for yourself if you're that concerned," Ingrid said dismissively, throwing the book onto the table in front of him.

Vlad grabbed at it – just in case Ingrid changed her mind – and read it through again. There, in Robin's spidery script, were the exact words Ingrid had just read out.

' _Life without Vlad doesn't bear thinking about. What would I do? I dreamt about him again last night. Why doesn't he just realise? Vampires always do on TV; they just_ _ **know**_ _when people like them. It's probably better that he doesn't. He'd only hate me._ '

He read it again and then again just to make sure, before turning to the next page, intent on discovering if it had just been a moment of madness on Robin's part, or if he really did like him.

By the time he'd read every single entry he was certain. Robin liked him. Robin liked him a lot. In fact, Robin liked him so much – and had written about exactly how he'd like this to manifest itself in so much detail – that Vlad was glad Ingrid had disappeared down into the crypt some time ago. He was never likely to live down getting  _that_  kind of reaction in her presence.

Glancing at his watch Vlad made a decision. Robin would be home in a few hours, and he was going to be waiting for him.

* * *

Robin banged on the door again wondering if this was proof that he'd finally lost his mind. What if he was wrong? How was he going to explain it to Vlad? 'I skipped school to come and get my diary, that you don't have, off you. Come round later and I'll get Ian to let us have a go on  _Vampire Orgy Six_.' Something told him Vlad wouldn't be fobbed off so easily.

He shifted from foot to foot anxiously, someone  _had_  to be in. Damage limitation and all that. It felt like he'd be sick with nerves if he had to wait any longer to find out if Vlad was planning to ignore him for eternity. With a hint of hysteria he wondered if Vlad was ignoring him already, if he knew it was  _him_  at the door and just couldn't bear the sight of him. He lifted his fist to bang again when the door was jerked back.

"Robin?" Vlad looked surprised and Robin supposed it was a fitting reaction. His dad would kill him if he found out he'd been mooching off school. He didn't want to give him any more reasons to prattle on about the advantages of a plumbing apprenticeship as further education. After a moment Vlad stepped back, suddenly all too aware of the glare of the afternoon sun Robin thought, and said, "Come in."

The door slammed behind him and Robin followed Vlad up to his bedroom, more nervous than ever. He couldn't tell whether Vlad had read it or not, he wasn't acting any differently as far as he could tell. When they entered the room however he caught sight of it immediately, lying on Vlad's bed. Vlad followed his gaze and stammered out,

"I'm really sorry, Robin. I know, I shouldn't have taken it. I just," he took a breath – out of habit rather than necessity Robin thought dimly through a wave of panic – "couldn't help myself."

"Did you read it?" Robin asked, the last vestiges of hope shining through.

Vlad couldn't meet his eyes. "Yeah."

"Right." Robin managed to croak out, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. "Right." He repeated, looking around helplessly. This would probably be the last time he set foot in Vlad's room. He pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping it looked like he had a cold rather than what it was – an attempt to stop himself crying in front of Vlad. "I should probably go then."

He started for the door without waiting for Vlad's response. If he were lucky – very lucky – he might even be able to keep it together until he got home and could lock himself in his bedroom for the better part of a week.

* * *

"Robin, wait!" Vlad pleaded, squirming his way between Robin and his bedroom door to block the other boy's exit. He couldn't just let Robin walk away thinking the worst of him. Not now that he knew Robin liked him back. Robin stopped but kept his gaze on the floor, refusing to look at him and Vlad swallowed. "Please forgive me. I'll never do anything like that again."

"Forgive you?" Robin asked quietly, finally fixing shocked dark eyes on his face. "But didn't you read what I wrote?"

"I know," it was Vlad's turn to look away, ashamed of himself. "You have every right to be angry with me," he said firmly, wanting Robin to understand that he  _knew_  how badly he had acted. "But," he risked a glance up at the face he had spent long hours doing nothing but committing to memory, "If I hadn't I would never have the courage to do this."

Cautiously, timidly, he pressed a chaste kiss to Robin's lips, moving back almost instantly. Robin stared at him like he had just grown an extra head, and Vlad wondered if somehow, in spite of everything he had read, Robin really didn't reciprocate the feelings he had spent years trying to fight.

And then – suddenly – Robin's mouth was on his again, his hands pushing at his shoulders, pushing him back against the solid wood of his door. The feeling was everything Vlad had ever dreamed it would be, and more. Robin, taller and broader through the shoulders – regardless of his abhorrence of anything that resembled sport – than Vlad felt he was ever likely to be, pressed his advantage, dominating him in a way that sent thrills of excitement through him.

Robin was so  _hot_ , his fingers burning where they brushed across the stretch of skin at the edge of his shirt, his breath warm and moist where it fanned across his face, Robin having to break away to breathe. Vlad clutched at him, revelling in the fact that  _he_  had done that to Robin. That it was him who had caused Robin's breath to come in ragged pants, his eyes to darken and his pulse to quicken. He shut his eyes for a moment, fighting back the surge of want that went through him at the thought of the latter, clinging as close to Robin as he could.

The other boy understood, wrapping his arms around him and leading him carefully until they were sat on Vlad's bed. Vlad shivered as he pressed his nose against Robin's throat, both glad and frustrated that his shirt collar was preventing him from getting any closer.

"You can if you want to." Robin whispered, his fingers pulling at the knot of his tie and Vlad knew he should stop him even as he kept still. Robin wrenched at his collar, pulling the button free and exposing the long pale column of his throat. Vlad tore his gaze away, with difficulty, and tilted his head up to try and read Robin's expression. Robin returned his gaze seriously, "I trust you."

Vlad touched his fingers to Robin's throat tentatively, reverently. He knew that Robin trusted him. It was almost as if he could  _feel_  it.

The problem was that he highly doubted whether he could trust himself.

* * *

Robin waited with baited breath for Vlad to make his decision. It was a long shot – a very long shot – because this was  _Vlad_ , and Vlad would sooner live like a monk than risk hurting someone, but he'd still had to try. He knew Vlad would never even break the skin. Vlad had more self-control than anyone he'd ever met.

Cool fingers carefully traced across his throat and it was all he could do not to arch his neck back and  _beg_  Vlad to bite him. Finally, what seemed like an eternity later, Vlad pressed equally cool lips to the feverish skin of his neck, raising goose bumps. "Promise you'll stop me if it hurts," Vlad murmured against him, making Robin squirm closer to his touch.

"I promise."

Vlad kept still for a long moment, until Robin was sure he couldn't stand it any longer, and then pressed a chaste kiss to his pulse point. Then another. And another. He trailed kisses up to his jawbone and back again, his fingers tracing patterns against his side as Robin shifted restlessly, manoeuvring them so that they were lying back against Vlad's pillows. When Vlad started to suck wetly at his throat he arched upwards, eyes clenched shut, and clutched desperately at Vlad's shoulders, pulling him on top of him.

He could feel the scrape of Vlad's fangs against the side of his neck as he sucked harder, feel how close Vlad was to losing control in the way he was trembling against him, the way he mauling at his shirt in an effort to expose more skin. Reluctantly he pushed Vlad off – there'd really be no way to explain a sudden propensity to smoulder in sunlight, not until he left home at any rate. Vlad blinked dazedly up at him, a faint trace of a blush on his pale cheeks, and Robin couldn't help but grin at the way the other boy's fangs were ruining his look of dishevelled innocence.

"Was I hurting you?"

Robin shook his head. "No." He shifted so he could sit back, dimly wondering how he was going to explain losing half his shirt buttons to his mam. At Vlad's questioning look he added, "That was the problem."

Vlad smirked back and settled against him, squirming uncomfortably as he did. Scrabbling behind him with one arm he caught hold of the offending object. "Your diary," he said, offering it out to Robin.

"It's alright, you can keep it." Robin kissed Vlad's cheek, liking the way the other boy settled closer to him, "I don't need it anymore."

Not now he had the real thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	109. Robin / Vlad, feeding.

“What,” Vlad asks, and Robin can’t help but smirk at the shake in his voice, “are you doing?” He concentrates on pressing the edge of the blade into the skin of his wrist, biting at his lip as the blood wells, red and slick. 

“We’ve talked about this, Vlad,” he scolds lightly, “Don’t keep asking stupid questions.”

There’s no answer, and when Robin glances up it’s to find Vlad inches from his face, eyes black and expression pained with the effort of restraining himself. The sight makes his pulse skip faster in excitement, breath coming short and shallow as the moment stretches on and on between them.

And, then, it’s broken. The knife falling from his grip even as the desperate noise torn from the back of Vlad’s throat hangs heavily in the air.

Vlad’s fingers are icy cold against his overheated skin, his movements clumsy with want as he brings Robin’s wrist to his mouth. Robin watches as Vlad’s eyelashes flutter against his pale cheek, the look of bliss on his face and the smudging of his blood across his lips. 

Robin doesn’t know if it’s blood loss or wish fulfilment but, by the time Vlad has drunk his fill, it’s only the other boy’s hold keeping him on his feet.

“That was such a stupid thing to do,” Vlad murmurs in his ear, clutching him to his chest as he helps him sit, running one hand across his back. “I could have killed you.”

“Vlad,” Robin yawns, rubbing his wrist against one denim clad thigh, the itch keeping him from sleep, “’Ow many more times? Only one of us is stupid.”

The words are slurred and Vlad smiles, presses a kiss into Robin’s dishevelled hair. Too sated to really worry about what has just happened.

“Whatever you say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	110. Robin / Vlad, Valentine's Day.

“Mine, Mine, Mine, Mine, and, oh, Mine.” Ingrid sneered as she waved the last piece of mail under his nose before dumping it on her already mountainous pile. Vlad crunched his cereal miserably and wished the day was over; despite being unable to go to school and too young to do more at night than hang around the high street, Ingrid had still managed to receive more Valentines this year than he was likely to get in his entire lifetime.

“Vladdy!” 

Vlad cringed as the Count made his entrance.

“You’ve surpassed yourself! I always knew you’d grow up to be a heart breaker.”

Ingrid made a noise that sounded like a cross between a goat and a food processor. “As if! These,” she swept her arm out expansively, “are all mine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Ingrid!” The Count snapped. “The boy is a Dracula. Girls are flinging themselves in the path of slayers as we speak in the hope of getting closer to him.”

Vlad stood up, hoping to make a break for school while they were still staring each other down. He’d managed three steps when Zoltan ruined his chances.

“It would seem, Master Vlad, that you have not been entirely overlooked.”

The Count whirled round and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Well done, Vlad! Who is it from?”

“Let me see that.” Ingrid snatched the garish envelope from the floor before he had chance to protest. “I love you with every breath in my body. Eugh.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Who would fancy you?”

On the trudge to school Vlad couldn’t help but wonder the same thing.

* * *

“Quiet!” Van Helsing bellowed as he strode into the classroom. All the zeal he had once had for vampire slaying was now reserved for classroom discipline; these days nobody dared get on the wrong side of him.

Well, nobody except Richard Price, who thought he was Stokely’s answer to James Dean. He was always bragging about how much he could drink or how many girls he’d had. “What’s wrong sir?” he yelled from the back row, “no secret admirers this morning?”

“More than you had Price, I’m sure. Now shut up.” Van Helsing scanned the room, his gaze making more than one student squirm uncomfortably in their seats. He seemed to know instinctively who was wearing nail polish and who hadn’t done their homework. “If anyone speaks in this lesson they will be serving detention with me tonight - during the Valentines disco. Do I make myself clear?”

Ten minutes into the lesson the room was still deathly silent, except for the scratch of biros. And Robin.

“Vlad. Vlad? Vlad!” 

“What?” Vlad hissed back, he really didn’t want to be stuck in detention with Van Helsing. The man might have forgotten about vampires but that hadn’t stopped him making his life a misery.

“Did you get any Valentine’s cards today?”

Vlad frowned and debated not answering. Why was Robin asking such a pointless question? Van Helsing wasn’t looking up so he risked it, if only to get Robin to keep quiet. “Yeah, one." He pulled a face, "Ingrid had dozens.”

“Me too. One, I mean. It was off my mam though. She does it every year. Any idea who yours is from?” 

Vlad didn’t, but he never got chance to say.

“Branagh!” Both boys swallowed as they looked up to see Van Helsing standing in front of their desk. “I thought I had made myself clear.”

“But sir!”

“No ‘buts’ Branagh. Be here for six thirty. Now get back to work.” Van Helsing looked around the room darkly. “All of you!”

* * *

“Well, you shouldn’t have been talking.”

“Right, thanks, Chloe. Don’t be sympathetic or anything.” Robin flung his fork down with a clatter. “This,” he glared at the gloop masquerading as lasagne on his lunch tray, “is disgusting. I can’t believe they make us pay for it.”

“I know why you’re in a bad mood.”

“What’s this?” asked Vlad, sliding into the seat next to Chloe.

“Robin’s sulking –“

“ – I am not! – “

“ – because nobody loves him. Except for his Mam. Ow! Robin!” Chloe tried to rub at her shin where Robin had kicked her under the table. Thinking better of it, she kicked him back instead.

“I saw you in town buying a card, Robin. You’re just jealous cos they didn’t send you one back.” With that Chloe picked up her tray and left.

“Who didn’t?” Vlad asked round a mouthful of food. Robin just looked at him strangely for a moment and Vlad groaned; it had to be Ingrid. Would Robin never learn? “You know it’s never going to work, Robin. Never. Ingrid says you’ve got about as much charm as Renfield’s ingrowing toe nail. And, well,” he shrugged, “that’s not very charming.” 

“What’s she got to do with anything!?” Robin spat with more viciousness than Vlad thought was strictly necessary. Before he could answer Robin was up and gone, pausing only to shove his barely touched dinner tray onto the rack.

* * *

Robin refused to speak to him all afternoon. Even during Welsh, which made things awkward when Mrs. Davies came round to test them on their grasp of the past tense. Robin left without waiting for him and so, by the time he got back to the castle and Renfield set his unappetizing tea down in front of him, Vlad was feeling decidedly sorry for himself. 

"I expect you'll be out ravishing a few breathers tonight, eh, Vlad?" The Count winked at him and Vlad looked away, pushing the - could be - potatoes around his plate with his fork. "Yes, living up to the Dracula name."

Ingrid sneered, "I bet he hasn't even got a date." She gave him an appraising look, full of disapproval, "Have you?"

Vlad could feel two sets of expectant eyes on him and dropped his cutlery with a clatter, pushing away from the table. "If you must know, I'm not going."

Up in his bedroom he read the card again, glancing around furtively before burying his nose in it and sniffing. It didn't make any difference, he couldn't smell anything other than paper and ink. Maybe whoever it was was too embarrassed to be up front about liking him, Vlad thought miserably, gaze trailing the looped handwriting, the 'i's dotted with crosses.

...Crosses. It sparked something in his memory and Vlad got up hurriedly from the bed, hauling a box from underneath and rifling through it. He had to make sure. Finally he found what he was looking for; the birthday card Robin had given him the year before. He opened both cards and placed them side by side, stomach twisting excitedly.

The handwriting was a perfect match.

* * *

 

"Look on the bright side, Branagh," Van Helsing's voice carried through the classroom door, out into the corridor, "this way you can catch up on all the work you've missed this term. When I get back," the warning was clear in the man's tone, "I expect it to be done."

Vlad stepped away from the window, pressing back against the wall as Van Helsing emerged and strode away purposefully in the direction of the main hall. Satisfied he was gone, Vlad pushed the door open softly, quiet enough for Robin not to hear it. When the other boy finally did look up he jumped in shock.

"Vlad? What are you doing here?" 

Vlad got the impression Robin wanted to say more, but had just remembered he wasn't speaking to him. He let the door fall shut behind him and moved to sit on the desk opposite Robin, offering a smile to Robin's obvious incredulity.

"I thought you sent a Valentine's card to Ingrid."

Robin frowned, "What are you talking about?"

"You know she doesn't like you, so I thought it was pretty stupid," Vlad went on as if Robin hadn't spoken. "Because it would never work." He could see the dawning realisation on Robin's face, the way his accusing expression was under attack from something more positive. He met Robin's gaze nervously, "Because I wished you'd sent one to me instead."

"Vlad," Robin smiled back at him, wide and happy, "You're such an idiot."

He shifted from the desk then, sliding into the chair next to Robin and pressing a kiss to his cheek, heart hammering against his chest. Robin kissed him back, a chaste press of lips, before glancing guiltily towards the door. Vlad stood reluctantly, rooting through the bag he had brought with him.

"I'll meet you later, yeah? But I'll leave you this." He handed Robin his workbook and Robin grinned.

"Vlad, I take it back."

"What!?" Vlad stared back at him, shocked, but Robin just shook his head in amusement.

"You're not an idiot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	111. Missing Out [TW: Mature themes, twincest - after a fashion...]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request fill from a couple of years ago.

“Aw, look at them for a pair,” Ian said, gesturing at the busty brunette on the screen.

Paul nodded in appreciation as the pair in question got ever closer to the camera lens. “Those two don’t know what they’re missing out on.”

“Ain’t normal, is it?” Ian agreed, shifting slightly as the camera panned back out, another similarly well endowed blonde girl joining the first, fingers touching possessively to her companion’s chest. “Two blokes going at it.” Ian grimaced, “Especially when one of them is Robin.”

Paul pulled a face, firmly shoving all thoughts of Robin and Ingrid’s weirdo little brother from his mind and concentrating instead on the way the first girl’s fingers were sliding down the second’s abdomen, teasing along the edge of her lace underwear. There was a rustling sound and he glanced across at Ian, averting his gaze when he saw what the other boy was doing.

‘Oh,’ the blonde moaned, lips forming a perfect cherry red ‘O’. The brunette smirked in triumph and Paul bit at his lip and reached for his own fly. She looked so much like Ingrid. As the girl’s fingers hooked into the edges of the flimsy fabric, pulling it down; as she leaned in closer to the blonde, tongues entwining, Paul wrapped a hand around himself, grunting at the sensation.

On screen the brunette was pushing the blonde girl down onto the bed, kissing her aggressively as her fingers moved roughly within her. The blonde tipped her head back against the pillows, cheeks flushed and mouth open, hips snapping up to meet the touch. Paul tightened his grip, stifling the urge to moan. Ingrid would be just like that; forceful, demanding.

Ian wasn’t being as successful, the sounds of his laboured breathing and low moans merging with the increasingly vocal cries of the girl on screen. Paul couldn’t quite prevent the guttural noise that escaped his lips when blunt fingers touched the head of his cock. He let Ian replace his hand, thrusting up into his grip, his own hand curling around Ian and moving roughly. 

‘Don’t stop!’ The girl on screen was keening now and Paul felt his muscles straining with the tension. “Agh,” Ian groaned, grip tightening still further as he came all over Paul’s hand. Paul’s own half stifled moan joined the screams of the girl as he followed suit, panting heavily in the aftermath.

He watched the girls kissing languidly through hazy eyes as he reached for the box of tissues on his dresser, passing a handful to Ian. Ian swiped clumsily at his fingers, gaze fixed firmly on the brunette,

“You’re right, bruv,” he sighed wistfully. “Those two have no idea what they’re missing out on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	112. Robin / Bertrand, Robin gets himself kidnapped. Bertrand comes to the rescue.

The news came at the worst juncture possible, and Vlad couldn't hide his horrified expression quick enough. Bertrand glared around the chamber, daring anyone to comment on it, and later bowed low when Vlad made the request, though they both understood the reality of what he was asking.

"You -," Vlad started, glancing anxiously towards where his sister was sat, before continuing, "You can say no if you want to. This isn't a demand."

Ingrid raised an eyebrow and shook her head, but didn't say anything, and Bertrand tried not to let on how much the younger vampire's words touched him. He was cold and heartless, or he was supposed to be, at any rate.

"It's my honour to serve," he said instead in a tone that was cool and respectful, and Vlad gave him a searching look before finally nodding his dismissal.

Bertrand left in a flurry of cape and determination, surprised to find that he really didn't begrudge being chosen for the assignment. No other vampire could be trusted to be as restrained, not even Ingrid, and informing the Guild could only be a last resort, given the current tensions.

Besides, he thought as the night air swept by him, at least he could rely on Robin to be suitably impressed when he turned up as a one man rescue party.

* * *

Robin shifted experimentally, and instantly wished that he hadn't. His hands were bound painfully above his head, and from the sickening rush of pain he suspected that if nothing was broken, something had to be dislocated.

Back when he was twelve he would never have believed that having a vampire for a best mate could have a downside. Twelve years later and he had acquired more than enough evidence to convince anyone.

The room was dank, dark, smelt of death and the kind of bodily fluids he tried not to think about. He was shivering with cold and shock, and he wondered with no little horror if they were going to torture him before they made a meal of him.

It was all massively unfair, really, because he hadn't even seen Vlad in near a twelve month, and then the other man had been so busy with the baby he had spent most of the visit playing chess with Bertrand.

Not, he conceded even as he resigned himself to waiting for some input on what the hell was happening, that it had been much of a hardship.

There were, after all, _some_ benefits to being best mates with a vampire.

* * *

Perhaps he had grown vain at Vlad's side, big headed, but the force waiting for him far outnumbered what he had been expecting. And he generally expected the worst of everything.

Suspicions formed in his mind as they finally succeeded in subduing him, clapping the cuffs around his wrists, and pressing the UV wand to his back for no other reason than that it amused them. A horribly familiar voice confirmed them, its owner leaning in so close he was forced to repress a shudder.

"A good hunter understands that his bait is the most important weapon in his arsenal."

"What do you want, Vasilev?" Bertrand ground out, refusing to give the older vampire the satisfaction. The last time they had met had been almost a century ago. The so-called War to end all Wars had been over, and he had declared himself thoroughly sick of the despair and the filth of it. He had wanted lights, and music, and dancing, and prey that struggled against him, not begged him tearfully to put them out of their misery.

He had been making the rounds of the club scene, gorging himself on pretty girls at the cabaret, and pretty boys at the speakeasies. He was with one such conquest when Vasilev had crawled from the sewers to offer him a deal. The boy had paled, so that his dark eyes were even more striking, and Bertrand had let him run because he didn't share, not with anyone.

In the present Vasilev simply smiled, a sight Bertrand remembered all too vividly, and motioned for the lackeys holding him to start moving.

"All in good time, _Bertrand_."

* * *

Robin supposed he must have fallen asleep. Or passed out. He wasn't too proud to admit to it.

Still he came back to himself with a start, jerking his shoulder as he did so which made him hiss through his teeth, blinking at the sudden influx of light.

"Not so special now are you," a voice spat in a tone that spoke of longstanding animosity, and a figure was pushed into the cell before the door was slammed closed again.

Robin tried to concentrate on not panicking. It could be another human. A pretty girl, perhaps, who he could rescue from this certain death and get his name in the vampire equivalent of the Stokely Chronicle. The glow of UV wrist cuffs filled the room, outlining a very male figure, and Robin reluctantly shelved that theory.

He could hold his breath, maybe. Kick the vampire in the unmentionables when he made for him, and then - Then die even more painfully. He was freaking out, he registered dimly. Hyperventilating.

There was shuffling, the vampire was trying to get up. Robin could feel blood dripping down his calf from where the jolt had reopened the wound. It was like a red flag to a bull, he had no hope.

"Calm down," a voice told him, though it scarcely registered. "Everything's going to be alright; I'm going to get you out of here."

* * *

The sight of Vasilev's handiwork was affecting him far more than he had expected it to, reducing him to the level of spouting nonsense platitudes. There were no windows, and the doors were properly sealed; their enemy was no idiot.

Robin was visibly terrified, and though once he would have revelled in it, now it only hammered home his weaknesses. He could feel the way the breather flinched when his back hit the wall beside him, to provide leverage for regaining his footing, and it struck at something deep inside, the knowledge that even Robin, deep down, considered him a monster.

He bit it back, refused to give in quite so easily, and worked his way back onto his feet, surveying the cell once again though it relinquished no new secrets. He couldn't get his own hands free without Robin's assistance, that much was obvious, and he couldn't get his body to co-operate and form flame, the air thick as it was with powdered garlic and argentilium.

"I've been on these pretty nasty tablets lately. If the NHS doesn't want my blood, I'm sure you wouldn't want it either, probably full of all kinds of -" Robin was babbling and Bertrand made himself ignore it.

The only other option was to concentrate, harder and harder, until it felt like his head would split with the pressure of it. He grit his teeth and kept up at it, eyes snapping open as the chains finally snapped and he hissed in pain, the UV cuffs burning into the flesh of his wrists as he instinctively tried to reach out and break Robin's boneless descent to the floor.

He sank gracelessly to his own knees, watched as the haze of mindless fear lifted from dark eyes to be replaced by recognition.

"Bertrand?" he whispered, like he couldn't quite believe it, and Bertrand had to force himself to be practical.

"Undo these cuffs. There has to be a way out of here."

* * *

Under normal circumstances he only ever saw Bertrand after extensive fussing over his appearance, all on the extremely unlikely off chance that Bertrand might have a secret passion for over inquisitive breathers. These were anything but normal circumstances, and if the dirt and the grime and the sweat weren't off putting enough, the sting of tears he couldn't quite keep back had to be finishing the job off for him.

The stoic bravery he had managed alone had dissipated with Bertrand's arrival, and it was cold, colder than he could ever remember being. He wrapped Bertrand's cape tighter around himself, as if it could keep out the pain and the knowledge that if nobody got that door open, he was only going to starve to death anyway.

Like he could read his mind Bertrand said, "Don't worry, one of them will drop by shortly. Vasilev never could resist premature posturing."

The last was said with a sneer, darker than the kind he used when describing students or councillors, but familiar enough to be soothing. Bertrand had already explained that Vlad had sent him, how, in the worst case scenario, at least someone would know to come looking for them. Robin tried to get a grip, to be helpful.

He fumbled in his pocket for his mobile, pressed uselessly at the buttons, and said, voice strained, "I'm going to send Orange a strongly worded letter when we get out of here."

Bertrand looked over at him, stopped pacing and moved to sit next to him. Robin tensed, for a moment, then let his head rest against the other man's shoulder.

He might not, he reasoned, get the chance to do it again.

* * *

Bertrand stiffened, instinctively, then drew in an unnecessary breath and forced himself to relax. He didn't want Robin to think he didn't want the intimacy. That last thought reverberated around his head, mocking, because he truly had become pathetic.

Long ago Vasilev had taken him under his wing and he had been grateful, in the beginning. Had learnt from the master just how much torment a human body could withstand, and what it meant to have the power of life and death at his fingertips. Then there was the book, and enough war to last a thousand lifetimes, and though he was an expert at subterfuge he had never mastered the ability to lie to himself.

He wanted things he had long since vowed to turn his back on. Kindness and warmth, companionship and trust. _Love_ , he supposed was the proper term.

"I'm going to be late for work," Robin mumbled into the fabric of his jacket, as though it was truly urgent, and Bertrand allowed himself to lay a palm across the pale forehead. The skin was burning, and not just in comparison to his own chilled flesh, though Robin's teeth were chattering. Fever, he diagnosed, and watched as his own hand pushed into dark hair, his thumb rubbing soft circles against Robin's temple.

He had to stay in control, keep his wits about him. Ignore the heady scent of blood, so thick he could almost taste it. That was what Vasilev wanted: for him to give in and feed, tear apart the treaty and confirm everyone's objections to a half-fang being given any position of responsibility.

There was nothing he could do but wait, and hope that Vlad hadn't shut his mind to the signal he was attempting to send him.

* * *

Time slipped by in fits and starts. The constant pain in his limbs, and the cold that only ever seemed to seep deeper. Bertrand's voice telling him things that he could only be imagining, because Bertrand would surely never tell them to anyone.

Tales of fallen comrades and desperate mothers who pleaded on behalf of terrified children, of a lonely child in another time entirely, and memories of fresh laundry and the French countryside.

There was light, noises, but then darkness again and Robin felt almost as though he were floating, his mind replaying the first time Bertrand had revealed anything of any personal value to him. It hadn't been long after his first encounter with Vlad in years, and his knuckles had still tingled when he thought of it, in memory of the way he smashed his fist into Vlad's nose in place of trying for a civil conversation.

Vlad had already unlived through his Coronation, though Bertrand had yet to be promoted to the Chamber. He had admitted to himself that the man of his dreams was cold and dead, and more than a couple of centuries older than him into the bargain.

"When were you turned?" he had asked one evening, when Vlad had disappeared to who knew where, and being in the older man's presence had robbed him of any semblance of tact he had ever been able to lay claim to. He had been much younger then.

Bertrand had raised an eyebrow because, so he had learned later, the fact shouldn't have been obvious. "Why aren't you afraid of me? I could rip your throat out."

It had tumbled from his lips, the way van Helsing had never stood a chance, even if he had remembered. Not when it had happened so quickly, not when he had a bus full of school pupils to think of. He'd arched his head back, so that his own brush with undeath was visible, and said, "If you were going to kill me, you would have done it already."

Bertrand had simply sat and began setting up a battered chess board,

"It was 1672, the beginning of the Franco-Dutch war. I knew nothing of death and little enough of life."

Cold fingers gripped at his own in the present and Robin struggled to break free of the scene.

He wasn't sure he wanted to.

* * *

Vasilev was at once an unknown quantity, and as predictable as ever. He found him watching over Robin's restless form, and the scene must have spoken louder than words because Vasilev smirked, and told him,

"I'm disappointed. I expected better from my favourite childe."

The bile rose in his throat even as he kept his expression indifferent. He knew from experience that any sign of weakness would only make things worse for him.

"The others are getting restless. They're hungry and, in the scheme of things, what is the blood of one expendable little breather?" Vasilev moved closer, steps cocky though he held a UV baton in one gloved hand, proving that he didn't really have confidence in his ability to overpower him.

"Your plan will fail," Bertrand said, tone measured. "Vlad has the support of the Guild, the Clans and the Council."

Vasilev smiled. "You haven't changed." It was punctuated with the touch of leather clad fingers to his cheek and he had to fight to suppress a shudder. Once the man had been everything to him; the thought was sickening.

"I could have gone for the Slayer, the halfling," Vasilev continued, "but that would have been foolhardy. You would never have arrived alone had that been the case. No, he will come underarmed and undermanned and, if you're very good, I'll let you watch as I kill him."

Bertrand bared his fangs, couldn't help himself, and then he was trying to tear the other man limb from limb, without any style or finesse, just the blinding rage only Vasilev had ever been able to inspire in him.

The baton bit into his arm, and two other figures came running from the corridor to join the fray. Andrei snarled at him, though to all intents and purposes they were brothers, even if Andrei was the elder and he the usurper. He didn't recognise the other and succeeded in knocking him out cold, locking eyes with Andrei before pushing the stake he carried for emergencies through the other vampire's chest.

It was over, he was going to win. Then Vasilev threw something into his face, something that made him howl with the pain, and the door was slammed to, leaving him alone with nothing but Robin and the darkness all over again.

* * *

* * *

It was hopeless, he thought as the hours stretched into days. Robin's pulse was so weak it was barely there, and the hunger gnawed at him so strongly that were he a couple of decades younger he doubted whether he would have been able to restrain himself.

The argentilium had been ground with something, he didn't know what, and he could feel where it had burned away the skin when he gingerly pressed fingers to his face. It felt bad, but he had no real way of telling. It wasn't as though he had a reflection to worry about anyway.

He hit his fist uselessly against the wall again and, when Robin stirred, he dropped to the floor beside him, hoping that his presence might be comforting somehow. He had seen it over and over again on the battlefield - nobody wanted to die alone.

And if Vlad didn't turn up, it would all be over, and, yet, if Vlad _did_ turn up it might all be over anyway.

* * *

 

* * *

Robin woke to find himself in hospital. Nowhere else had quite that mix of stark clinicalism and ingrained tragedy. His mother was asleep in the chair beside the bed, exhaustion written clear on her face. He tried to move, to sit up, but it was no use.

The world lurched and swirled around him, and still there was no sign of Bertrand.

* * *

Vlad didn't know how to approach the subject, that much was obvious. Bertrand wished fervently that the young vampire would choose to leave the topic alone entirely.

He had had to be rescued, for the first time since his fangs had fully descended. It didn't bear thinking about. Worse his own security staff had seen him wrapped around - an albeit barely breathing - breather. How could he ever hope to command their respect again?

"They got all of them," Vlad said, with just a trace of anxious concern, though his eyes were wide as they flickered from his bandaged arms to his face and back again. "They'll be executed at sunrise."

Bertrand nodded stiffly. It was the proper thing to do with them, even if he could read the remorse on Vlad's face at having to order it, no matter how carefully he tried to hide it.

Silence stretched, and Vlad shifted as if to leave. Bertrand felt some of the tension draining, only for it to return tenfold.

"You should go and see him. I mean, spend some time with him." Vlad flustered, "I - it's the least I can do."

He mulled the words over all day within the confines of his coffin, debating whether it would be a mark of greater cowardice to go or to leave Robin to live his life. In the slow hours before dusk Wolfie shied away from him, and Ingrid looked him over pityingly, confirming that his face was more of a mess than he had imagined.

He would go, he decided. There could only be one answer, and to delay hearing it would be the real cowardice.

* * *

Robin listened obediently to the medical babble, and nodded in the right places though he had no real idea what they were talking about. He'd broken something, but that he'd already known. He'd been dehydrated and feverish, and he was lucky to have come through it.

His mam gripped his hand tightly when they were told the last, and though he was 24 and hadn't needed to scare the nightmares away in years, he squeezed back to let her know it was appreciated.

The twins came to see him straight from work, and Chloe caught the bus back from university, though he had told her over the phone there was no need to. His workmates came round with a card, and his dad spent a visiting hour in stiff silence before abruptly pulling him into a hug, and telling him that he had better not even think of scaring them all like that again.

He had near given hope when he finally caught sight of a dark haired figure, and he did his best not to let his shock show, when Bertrand stepped close enough to let him see his face clearly.

"I'll just go and get a cup of tea from the canteen," his mam said, though she had a half full cup sitting on the bedside table.

Bertrand took her place, though his posture was full of tension, and he waited until Robin had told him exactly what the doctors had said before saying,

"They say it will heal, it will just take time."

There was something in his tone that made Robin's heart clench in his chest. A vulnerability he hadn't seen since he had come to keep Bertrand company, in the aftermath of a particularly nasty case of blood poisoning.

"You saved my life," he said softly, mindful of the listening ears of the other patients.

Bertrand snorted, studied his hands. "I was unprepared. My mistakes almost cost you everything."

Robin couldn't take it, reached out with his better arm and took Bertrand's unresisting hand in his own. The words stuck in his throat, came out as little more than a whisper, "It was me who got kidnapped in the first place. Perhaps we need to make it up to each other."

His heart pounded in his chest, panic stricken that Bertrand wouldn't understand what he was saying, still more afraid that he would understand exactly. The silence stretched on and on until he was certain of rejection then, just as he was wondering how he could possibly have been so stupid, Bertrand lifted his hand and pressed his lips to the back of it, like everyone else in the ward wasn't watching avidly.

"You don't know the things I've done," Bertrand told him, and now the initial shock had worn off the angry red flesh was less distracting. He had sketchy memories, vague images of a fight, and a howl of pain, and it made his insides try to twist themselves inside out, to know that Bertrand had gone through that for him.

He lay back against the pillows, still quick to give into exhaustion and told him simply,

"No, but I want you to be able to trust me enough to tell me."

* * *

* * *

Robin improved every day, and when he was well enough to go home and to move freely Vlad was true to his word, and freed him of all responsibility for a week.

"Robin's my best friend," he told him awkwardly, cheeks colouring with the help of a system full of soya blood. "Don't - I mean, you wouldn't, but just…" He trailed off awkwardly and Erin picked it up for him, smiling too knowingly,

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Bertrand nodded, unable to think of any more appropriate action and fled as quickly as he could without making it look like he was fleeing. Not wanting to be interrupted by Robin's flatmates any more than his parents he had already made arrangements, though he surprised himself by his willingness to sit through tea and cake to humour Robin's mother.

"I think it's lovely that you're taking him away," Mrs. Branagh told him, smiling at him with such benign trust he had to focus on the inside of his teacup. "Just make sure that he eats properly, and doesn't _over-exert_ himself."

"Mam!" Robin exclaimed, blushing at the seeming insinuation, and his father came close to choking on a mouthful of Kendal Mint cake. Bertrand smiled in spite of himself, and didn't wait until they had reached the end of the street before pulling Robin close and kissing him.

It was staggering, still, that Robin allowed it and, when they arrived at their destination, trusted him implicitly though behind the door there could have been anything waiting for him. It wasn't particularly outstanding, as guest crypts went, but it was dry and erring on the clean side, and best of all there wasn't anyone around to bother them.

"Cool," Robin said appreciatively, taking in the decoration, and then raised an eyebrow at the sight of the bed frame.

Bertrand smirked, because it came naturally, and sat on the bed with a flourish as he said,

"The Council expects its officials to do a lot of entertaining."

Robin laughed, a bright sound he hadn't realised how much he missed until it had entered his unlife again, and as though he could read his wistful thoughts, Robin stepped closer, until Bertrand could feel the body heat pouring off of him. Robin put his hands on Bertrand's shoulders and leaned in to press a kiss to the bridge of his nose, where he was told the skin was taking longer to heal.

"I never thought I'd get to be this close to you," Robin murmured, looking half embarrassed at his honesty, and Bertrand wrapped his arms around the figure in front of him, allowing his hands to wander across the expanse of his back, before pushing up beneath his shirt.

Robin shivered, and he would have pulled his hands away, except that dark eyes met his own, and a dark voice begged him to continue. They ended up lying across the bed, Robin on top of him, pinning him in place as he kissed him. He ought to be ashamed that he could stoop so low, to allow a breather to have such a hold over him, to press kisses to the juncture of his neck, teeth grazing hard enough to leave a mark of dominance.

In truth he couldn't care. He had tried being the perfect vampire, and he had failed at it as he had failed long ago at being the perfect son.

"You're perfect to me," Robin whispered, as though they were sharing more than a mattress, and he let go of every negative thought he was clinging to. In that moment it was more than good enough for him.

* * *

Robin clutched at the other man with a desperation he was sure wasn't at all attractive. Still Bertrand clutched back, and made encouraging noises, and when it became clear that the older man wasn't going to do the expected thing and take control of the situation, he took hold of his wrist and pressed the cool hand between them until he couldn't think clearly about anything.

"Please," he managed to croak when Bertrand got the idea, and his movements became more and more erratic, until he could do nothing but kiss Bertrand wetly, his entire frame shaking.

Bertrand held him in the aftermath, tender like he couldn't imagine any vampire other than Vlad being. He rolled the thought around as he shifted so he could look into Bertrand's face, trace the fading scars, and wonder how much of any vampire was an act, and how much was heartless evil.

"I never thought I'd get this close to you," Bertrand said, voice raw with the effort it took, repeating his own words back to him. Robin smiled, thought of countless chess matches, and hours spent daydreaming about if only, so that he was certain it must be painfully obvious to all and sundry.

"If all it takes is nearly dying, I'll do it more often," Robin joked in response, pulling the expensive looking covers over them, and let Bertrand give him a glare that was equal parts fond exasperation and admonishment.

Bertrand was the first to fall asleep, deathly still though his arm was still wrapped tightly around him. Robin looked around the room again, taking in the details, and then back at his arm full of vampire and grinned wide enough to split his face.

His twelve year old self had been right after all. He had just been destined to end up with a well fit vampire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	113. Fanart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some cruddy fanart I drew back in the day...

Sulking!

* * *

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

Role reversal...

* * *

 

Baby! Vlad and Ingrid on a swing.

* * *

 

And, finally, the original character sketches of the OCs I made up to be the school bullies...

 

L-R: Drew Davis, Richard Price, Tommo (originally 'Bazza') Watson, Kelsey Peterson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	114. Gen, Robin gets a letter to Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just moving the last few of these over from FFN - this was part of a '5 Times' drabble challenge, for the prompt 'Got a letter to Hogwarts'.

"It's going for him, look!"

Paul followed Ian's gaze and watched through the kitchen window as an owl went straight for Robin's head. It was amazing really. How the animal kingdom could just tell instinctively that Robin was a freak.

"Mam! Mam!" Minutes later Robin was pelting through the back door. "Look at this."

Mrs. Branagh went pale as she read the letter, passing it silently over to her husband. Paul tried to peer over his Dad's shoulder to see it. Why would anyone want to write Robin a letter?

"I thought you said were certain Elizabeth." His Dad looked ill, like the time they hadn't cooked those sausages properly on that camping holiday in Pontypridd.

"What's going on?" Chloe demanded, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Well," Mrs. Branagh began, "This letter says that Robin is a special child, and he's got a place at a school in Scotland where they're going to teach him how to make the most of his talents."

"So what you're saying," Ian asked, face scrunched up in concentration, "is that Robin isn't going to go to our school."

Paul shared a look with his brother. "Scotland's far away isn't it? He'll have to stay there all term, won't he?"

Mrs. Branagh nodded and smiled comfortingly at them, "I'm sorry. I know you'd have liked to look after Robin when he started at big school."

Paul grinned slowly, "Robin's a nutjob and they're taking him away. Are you mad!?" He and Ian high-fived, "This is the best news ever!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	115. Robin/Vlad, Role Reversal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of a '5 Times' drabble challenge, for the prompt 'Role Reversal'.

Vlad shrank back towards his bedroom wall, heart pounding in his chest as Robin advanced towards him, the tips of his fangs glinting in the candlelight. He jumped as his back made contact with the cold brick, the knowledge that he had nowhere else to run sending a strange thrill through him.

"Give in?" Robin asked, his voice dark and more than a little menacing. He lifted one long fingered hand to Vlad's throat, tracing his jugular with a surprisingly gentle touch. "I've waited a long time for this, Vlad."

He knew he shouldn't want this, knew it was wrong. And still he let his head fall back, offering himself up to Robin; shivering in anticipation. Robin groaned and buried his face in the curve of his neck, kissing from his jaw line to his collarbone before – finally – biting down.

Vlad clutched at Robin, one hand fisting into the back of his shirt, the other in his hair holding his head in place. It felt so good, even better than he'd imagined. The fact that it was Robin was enough to make him feel faint, his legs feel like jelly. If it wasn't for the other boy's reflexes, the way he shifted to support his weight, he was sure his knees would have given way completely.

"Vlad. Vlad, are you alright?" Robin lowered them both to the floor, an arm around his shoulders keeping him sat upright. "Vlad, speak to me." Vlad blinked up at him hazily, grinning dopily at the obvious concern on Robin's face.

He reached up and touched his fingers softly to Robin's cheek. "I'm alright. More than alright." Vlad pressed the pad of his thumb tentatively to the sharp edge of Robin's fang. "But next time," he pulled carefully at the plastic, removing it from the other boy's mouth, "I get to play vampire."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	116. Robin/Vlad, 'cross dressing'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of a '5 Times' drabble challenge, for the prompt 'cross dressing'.

"I can't believe you're making me do this," Robin scowled, folding his arms across his chest. "Chloe would 'ave done it."

"But she doesn't know me like you do. She wouldn't be able to pass the test."

Robin huffed and plucked at the taffeta of the dress Ingrid had spent half hour forcing him into. Vlad had to look away, not sure whether he wanted to laugh or pull Robin close. It was surreal. He'd never thought Robin would make a passable girl, but, he was almost pretty. Not that he'd ever tell Robin that. He was big headed enough as it was.

* * *

"Roberta, is it?" Granny Westenra peered down her nose at Robin for a long moment before turning to scowl at Vlad. "I find you a vampiress hundreds have killed for, and you prefer," she waved a hand dismissively, "this. You're even more a half-wit than I'd feared."

Vlad squirmed uncomfortably. Was it really so strange that he didn't want to marry some blood-thirsty killer he'd never met? Even Robin had initially urged him to go through with it, drooling over her picture and insisting the whole experience would be 'awesome'. It was only when he'd explained, told him why he didn't want to do it that Robin had relented and agreed to help him.

"Dracula!" Granny clapped her hands, "Bring me the test paper." 

* * *

"A perfect score." Granny spat, expression furious as she waved the completed test paper under Vlad's nose. He glanced across at Robin in shock. He'd been sure that Robin would be able to pass, but to get every question correct? It was almost unheard of. Not even vampires who had spent centuries together got scores like that.

"I told you. The b- girl is infatuated with Vladimir."

Vlad scowled at his Dad. Thankfully Granny didn't notice, only taking the time to glower sharply at each of them before pulling her cape around her and disappearing.

* * *

Up in his bedroom Vlad watched – as discreetly as possible - as Robin struggled out of the dress and back into his jeans and T-shirt. Robin dragged a hand through his hair, undoing whatever it was Ingrid had done that had made it look girlish and delicate.

Finally his curiosity got the better of him, "How did you know all the answers?"

Robin frowned at him, scrubbing at his face with a towel. "How do you think?" He asked irritably, "You're my best mate. It was easy."

"I don't know what I'd do without you." Vlad said quietly, glad that Robin had finally taken the last of the make-up off.

"Marry a fit vampiress to keep your nan happy?"

"You're so funny," Vlad said sarcastically.

"I know," Robin grinned, dropping down onto the bed next to him and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "But you love me anyway." "I don't know," Vlad bit back a smile at the flash of shock on Robin's face, "I think I prefer Roberta."

He couldn't help but concede that he might have asked for the pillow to the head he got in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	117. Gen, Alternate Universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of a '5 Times' drabble challenge, for the prompt 'Alternate Universe'. Originally posted to FFN in 2009.

"Robin! _Robin!_ "

Robin ignored the yelling and banging on his bedroom door, concentrating on keeping his breathing even. Hanging upside down was a delicate operation; he'd only recently had the cast off his arm. He heard the footsteps recede back downstairs and relaxed. He'd get another half hour practice, at least.

* * *

"Jonno, why don't you go for a walk? Get a feeling for the place?"

"I don't want to get a feel for the place," Jonno muttered under his breath. He didn't really want to be in Stokely at all. If it weren't for his Dad's stupid obsession with vampires, weren't for his attempt to stake deputy head master at his old school, then he wouldn't have to be.

"Or, you can help me unpack," His Dad motioned at the boxes full of stakes he'd just dragged from the car.

" _Fine_."

Jonno gave it his best attempt to slam the caravan door on his way out.

* * *

"Zoltan," Vlad smirked, "I'm a pre-teen vampire. That means I have the reflexes of a night hunter, combined with an incredibly ability to sneak out behind my parents back." He gave the stuffed wolf a wink. "Don't wait up."

* * *

Jonno wandered aimlessly. Stokely wasn't too much different to the last town. A few less old people, a few more chavs. He sank down onto a bench miserably, watching two young children throw bread crusts to the duck's under their mother's watchful eyes. He missed his Mum.

He was still watching when a boy sat down next to him, glancing in his direction and offering him a shy smile. Jonno nodded in return. The boy held his hand out, "Vlad. I've just moved here."

Jonno eyed him up cautiously for a long moment, trying to work out whether or not it was a wind-up. Eventually he shook Vlad's proffered hand. "Jonno. I've just moved here too."

Vlad grinned widely at him,

"Chilly!"

* * *

" _Robin!_ "

"Alright! I'm coming!" Robin spat, pushing past his mother and storming down the stairs. It wasn't like he'd asked to go on this stupid camping trip. His Dad slammed the van door the instant he was inside, his parents clambering into the front seats.

Robin stared glumly out of the window, seeing nothing of any interest bar two boys wandering back from the park. That was Stokely. Nothing ever happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	118. Robin/Vlad, Robin loses his memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of a '5 Times' drabble challenge, for the prompt 'Five Things That May Or May Not Have Happened To Robin Branagh... was perfectly normal.' Originally posted to FFN in 2009.

"Branagh-o!"

Vlad watched miserably as Robin shook Richard Price's hand like some sort of Bronx gangster before sliding into his seat. He wished he could stop watching. Watching for a sign of the Robin who had been Stokely Grammar's biggest outcast. The Robin who had worn a cape to school, and dissected a frog in maths. The Robin who had been his best friend.

More to the point, he wished he could just stop caring. Stop caring that sometimes when Robin looked at him, it was like he knew. Like he remembered everything. Vampires, and slayers, and the clumsy kisses they'd once shared in his bedroom.

Across the canteen their gaze met and Vlad held his breath, palms sweating as Robin's dark eyes bore into his own. For a moment, one long bittersweet moment, he thought he saw recognition but, then, Robin sneered and turned back to his new friends. Vlad stared at the desk and did his best to pretend he didn't care.

The Robin Branagh he had known was gone. It was time he accepted it.

* * *

"Oi Count, wait up!"

Vlad sped up, keeping his gaze on the floor. He could see Robin and Price and the others from the corner of his eye; the white of their tracksuits stark against the dirty grey of Stokely town centre. Some days he could deal with it, with the constant insults and the knowledge that Robin thought he was a 'proper freak'. Today wasn't one of those days.

He was in the alley leading to the subway when he heard the pounding of feet.

"I said, _wait up_."

He turned slowly to see Robin stood there alone, his tracksuit bottoms tucked into his football socks and his close cropped fringe gelled to his forehead. Vlad couldn't help but think that before – before he'd ruined his life with a crown and a few misplaced words – Robin would have sooner flung himself from the top of the castle battlements than be seen in public like that.

"What do you want," he forced the word out of his mouth, "Branagh?"

Robin stepped towards him menacingly, the afternoon sunlight glinting off the chain round his neck and the heavy sovereign ring on his right hand. "I want to know why you keep staring at me. Don't think I 'aven't noticed, Count." Vlad was backed up against the wall now and, even with the warning, he still couldn't stop staring.

Robin looked him up and down appraisingly and Vlad cringed knowing that, even if by some miracle it was with something more than where best to kick him in mind, Robin would still find him lacking. A smirk broke across Robin's face and Vlad could feel his heart hammering, half from fear and half from excitement. His body betraying what his mind was trying so desperately to deny. He had to get away from there before Robin worked it out.

"Not so fast, _Vlad_." The sound of his name on Robin's lips had him frozen to the spot, his eyes searching Robin's face desperately. Robin was so close he could smell the cigarette smoke on the other boy's breath, could – if he dared – press their lips together. Could _show_ Robin why he kept staring at him.

Robin watched him carefully, his eyes growing darker in the way Vlad still dreamt about, his gaze flickering to his lips. Suddenly Vlad couldn't hold back, clutching at Robin's shoulders and crushing their mouths together, not caring if he did get a kicking when it was over. After a moment of shocked passivity Robin took control, shoving him back against the wall and deepening the kiss so that their tongues slid together, pushing his thigh against him in a way that threatened to make him see stars.

"Rob! You down 'ere?" Price's voice rang out and Robin pulled away guiltily, his lips swollen and cheeks flushed. Vlad imagined that he didn't look much better. "Rob!" Price called again, and Robin glanced down the alleyway and then back at him, scowling fiercely.

"You tell anyone about this and I'll kill you."

"Yeah?" Vlad asked with a confidence he didn't quite feel. "What good will that do?"

Robin frowned at him, and Vlad could see the way the memory was just out of reach. He could hear footsteps now, Price would be there any moment. He drew himself up to his full height, "I won't tell anyone, if you meet me later."

"I ain't interested, Count."

"I bet Price will be when he finds us snogging." Vlad pushed forward and pressed his lips to Robin's, unsurprised to find himself pushed away.

"Alright, Count, alright! Just get off me!" Robin wiped at his mouth, panic evident on his face.

Price rounded the corner and asked, "What's going on 'ere?"

"Nothing. Just teaching Count a lesson, innit?" Robin was a rubbish liar but Price didn't seem to notice, instead he just glared at Vlad. Vlad met his gaze and stared back, for once not afraid.

"Yeah, well, come on," Price said finally, looking away, "We're gonna be late." Price started back and Robin followed, pausing only to hiss, "'ere, half seven" in his ear. Vlad stayed against the wall long after they'd disappeared, head spinning.

It wasn't time to give up on Robin after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	119. Gen, the Branaghs think about moving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Random WIP I never went anywhere with. Originally posted to FFN in 2013.

"What about my friends?" Ian whined.

"What about rugby season?" Paul added plaintively.

"What about exams!?" Chloe demanded, aghast.

"Yes!" Robin punched the air. "This is the best news ever!"

Mr. Branagh shifted uncomfortably, unused as he was to witnessing his youngest son do anything other than sulk, and continued with his explanation,

"Stokely isn't the same these days, not since the murders, and business hasn't picked up. Empty houses just don't need their toilets unblocking." Mr. Branagh shook his head solemnly. "I know Great Aunt Lil was a little," he paused, searching for a word, "odd, but the house is structurally sound."

There was the sound of chair legs scraping against the kitchen tiles, and Mr. Branagh frowned at being interrupted.

"Where do you think you're going, Robin?"

Robin beamed, "To start packing!"

* * *

 

The following Monday at school Robin couldn't stop smiling, not even - perhaps especially not - when Andrew Davis shied away from him nervously during Welsh.

"What are you so happy about, Branagh?" Richard Price, his long time nemesis, hissed later, out in the corridor as they lined up for their next lesson. "Count haven't come back, have he?"

More than a couple of people within earshot sniggered. His supposed love for Vlad 'I'm too grand to facebook the only person ever willing to be friends with me' Count had become the stuff of legend at Stokely Grammar.

Price grinned nastily, "Bet you've cried yourself to sleep every night since he broke up with you."

It must have been the thought of their imminent move from Stokely - because it definitely wasn't any lingering sense of loyalty towards Vlad - but instead of staring at the floor, or balling his fists and imagining what he would do to Price if he wasn't so prone to bruising, he launched himself at the other boy.

Price wasn't expecting it and Robin managed to land a fist, and then another, before Mr. Archwright was hauling him off of Price and yelling at the pair of them.

"It's like working in a zoo!" Mr. Archwright spat, holding Price at arm's length and preventing him retaliating. "Go to Mrs. Harker's office!"

* * *

 

"You're not stupid," Mrs. Harker said after he had been summoned in, sounding less angry and more exasperated, "you have the potential to really make something of yourself."

Robin shrugged, and stared at a point somewhere above her left shoulder.

"I've heard about your move; I don't want to have to give your new school a bad report of you."

That struck a chord, and Robin dropped his gaze to the desk. Beddrod High was supposed to be a fresh start, far away from anyone who knew him.

Mrs. Harker sighed. "You're on report for the rest of the week. Get back to your lesson."

He could have gone back to maths, Robin supposed, and waited for Price to get his own back. It wasn't an appealing prospect though, not on any level, and he made his way instead behind the gym, where there was a gap in the fence that lead down to the canal towpath.

They had used to go there sometimes - him and Vlad - not during lessons, obviously, because Vlad was swot enough to put even his own sister to shame, but on the weekends when Vlad wanted to be free of the oppressive atmosphere of the castle, and he couldn't bear to be in the same building as his parents.

Vlad had told him all sorts of things then, cloistered together on some bench or other overlooking the murky water. That he was his best friend, and that he'd die if his dad made him move back to Transylvania, because Robin meant so much to him.

Now, watching the ducks navigate through rubbish and discarded shopping trolleys, Robin struggled to remember just why they had been such good friends in the first place. Vlad hadn't been anything special, and it wasn't as if they had ever really had all that much in common.

And, yet, he couldn't shake it. The way his heart clenched and his stomach twisted whenever he thought of Vlad, of his (stupid) smile and (stupid) accent, and the vague sense that there was a secret they were keeping from everyone.

Price was right, he supposed. They all were. There was only one reason why he could spend so much time obsessing over someone who in an entire year had never bothered to so much as pick up the phone and call him.

Robin stood then, abruptly, and shoved his hands into his pockets. He hoped spitefully that Vlad rang once they'd moved, hoped he turned up on the doorstep, teary eyed and remorseful. He wouldn't care, Robin told himself. He'd have new friends, and new hobbies, and someone to hold his hand, and laugh at his jokes. Someone fitter than Vlad could ever hope to be.

The new house was going to mean a whole new life, and he wasn't going to let Vlad Count spoil it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	120. Gen, Hiding In Plain Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vlad needs to disappear for a while - somebody comes to the rescue. Originally posted to FFN in 2012, to fill a challenge laid down by redrachxo... I never finished it.

There comes a time in the reign of every Grand High Vampire when it becomes pertinent to just disappear for a while. There was no real shame, Bertrand assured him, that that time had come sooner than it had for most of his predecessors.

Vlad thought long and hard about where he ought to disappear to. Erin had always wanted him to take her to Paris, before she decided that being with a guy without a pulse was really just something of a drag. Ingrid suggested that he ought to go hook up with Adrianus and his goat in deepest Trans-Siberia but, really, that was always going to be a non-starter.

His dad didn't want to go anywhere that might prevent from keeping a (totally non-stalkerish) eye on Miss McCauley, and Bertrand chose the crucial moment to come down with a crippling case of blood poisoning.

It was all looking pretty hopeless when he hauled himself out of his coffin one evening to the sound of thudding and raised voices. If his blood were able to run cold, it would have, and Vlad cursed himself for not hurrying things along, and for putting the entire family in danger. Bertrand, he thought though his mind could undoubtedly be better occupied, was bound to be disappointed in him.

The scene he found playing out in the sitting room however wasn't quite what he had been expecting. His father had his head in his hands, though it wasn't despair but the beginnings of a stress headache that had him rubbing circles against his temples. Ingrid's face was set in its habitual scowl, and Ryan was sat obediently at her feet, but his eyes were wide and wondering, staring at something just out of Vlad's line of vision.

Bertrand had a restraining hand on Wolfie's shoulder, though he still looked grey rather than pale, and there were deep circles around his eyes so that Vlad could do nothing but stride purposefully into the room, determined to show his mentor how adeptly he could take control of the situation.

"Vlăduţ!" came the terrible cry the moment he stepped over the threshold. "Come and say hello to your Great Uncle Armand!"

Great Uncle Armand had once been the most powerful vampire in the Western Hemisphere. The hand pulling the strings behind the Crown, the vampire every family wanted to invite to the sacrifice of the blood of their firstborns. Then there was a nasty to-do over a half fang in Bohemia, and a fall from grace that involved a stake and a consignment of dates, at least that was the way the family stories went, and the vampire vowed to turn his back on politics and within the year was making a living from the zombie trade in Haiti.

This all ran through the back of Vlad's mind as Armand crushed him into an unwanted hug, all bushy beard and eyebrows, and velor leisure toga, topped off with luminous nylon sports cape.

Armand wiped a tear from his eye when he finally pulled away, and held a hand out for it to be duly presented with a handkerchief by his faithful - if ancient - manservant. "They grow up so quickly, Rollo."

"That's a matter of opinion," he heard his sister murmur, and Rollo, who Vlad remembered from Great Uncle Armand's last unannounced visit, made some strange sort of clicking noises until Armand straightened up and nodded,

"Of course, you're quite right, Rollo."

Vlad looked around the world for help. His dad was grinding his fangs in irritation, muttering dark threats of torture, while Ingrid was now wearing her scheming expression, doubtless thinking of the inheritance.

"Why are you wearing a dress?" Wolfie asked, bluntly. "Are you friends with Renfield?"

Great Uncle Armand tipped his head back and laughed, too loud and too long, then snapped his fingers at Rollo who scurried from the room obediently and fixed Vlad with an uncomfortably intense stare.

"I'm here to offer my services."

* * *

"I don't like it," Bertrand told him as he set about packing some essentials into his old school backpack.

The blood poisoning had left the man with a tempting air of vulnerability about him, and it was all Vlad could to concentrate on not confusing his shampoo with the soya blood, what with Bertrand leaning against the wall for support and looking like something out of the kind of magazines Garside was always attempting to crack down on.

"We don't have a lot of choice," Vlad said as steadily as he was able. "They're all baying for my blood." He frowned. "You know what I mean."

Bertrand's expression was placid, but his eyes flashed, and Vlad tried not to think about the fact his coffin was right in front of them both.

"And," Vlad went on, "Uncle Armand's right. It's the last place anyone would think to look for us."

Bertrand looked unconvinced, but Vlad resolved to see the plan through. He wasn't as flaky as the Sunblock liked to make out. Once he made a decision, he stuck to it.

* * *

* * *

"If I am forced to spend another second with that old fool I swear I will stake him and be done with it!" The sky above Garside Grange crackled with lightening as the Count stomped his foot, not unreminiscent of an overtired four year old.

Great Uncle Armand, busy loading his modified hearse - complete with go faster stripes streaking the sides - patted the Count's arm as he passed,

"Always the joker, good to see you haven't let things get you down."

The Count lunged and if it weren't for the speed of his vampire responses, Vlad thought once they were finally on the road, Great Uncle Armand would have been reduced to nothing but a stinking pile of ash in the middle of the school playground.

As it was, the Count had willingly offered to travel behind with Renfield and Ingrid, something which only served to unsettle Vlad. Armand was irritating, certainly, but he had yet to demonstrate the same talent Ingrid had at getting under the skin.

An hour later, as the urban landscape gave way to lashing rain and green fields, Vlad was forced to reassess the situation.

"I advised on all the classics," Great Uncle Armand was saying, taking his eyes off the road in front of them far more than Vlad felt was strictly necessary. "Revenge of the Zombies, Revolt of the Zombies, Murderous Intent of the Zombies. Yes, they all came to me to talk about realism."

At this point Wolfie shoved another handful of blood sherbets into his mouth, and Rollo clucked his tongue against the side of his wizened cheek.

"Quite right, Rollo," Great Uncle Armand nodded, the hearse swerving across lanes with the motion. Vlad swore he saw Bertrand turn near transparent, even as his own fingers dug into the seat covers. Armand continued on unperturbed, "I made a rod for my own back. Nobody wanted a zombie workforce after Lugosi's performance. Too afraid of uprisings. So I did what any vampire would do; went into the holiday home business. It's about time Rollo and I did a proper stock take of our UK assets."

Rollo made a gargling type of noise, and Armand beamed, "Oh, yes, everyone who's anyone has stayed in one of my luxury holiday lets."

Vlad finally perked up at this, and offered a waxy looking Bertrand a smile, dreaming of central heating and modern shower fixtures.

Perhaps the next seven days wouldn't be quite so awful after all.

* * *

"You have got to be kidding me," Ingrid said when they reached their destination. For once Vlad agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment.

"Still in excellent condition," Great Uncle Armand told Rollo, as if he couldn't see the rust and the grime and the broken window. Perhaps he couldn't. Vlad thanked any and all deities once again that the journey was over.

"I am not," the Count began, pacing with agitation so Renfield had to scurry with the umbrella to keep him sheltered from the weak dawn sunlight, "spending a week in a caravan!"

"At least," Vlad tried, wary of losing another family member, "things can't get any worse." A car pulled up at the neighbouring - and far superior - caravan, doors thunking in the early morning quiet.

"Mr Count!" a voice exclaimed. "Fancy seeing you here."

Vlad just took a moment to shut his eyes and pretend that none of it was happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	121. Old Friends, New Enemies (WIP)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a reunion with an old friend is forced upon him, Vlad gets more than he bargained for. Another fic I never finished, this was originally posted to FFN in 2013.

"Ah!" Pyotr protested, and it was to his credit that he didn't shrink back under the glare Vlad fixed him with in response. A family could fall from favour just as easily as they could rise to it.

Pyotr wetted his lips nervously. "Apologies, your Grandness, but the Dracule seal will not prove binding."

Vlad raised an eyebrow, Dracule was all but the greatest figure in vampire history. Pyotr flipped hurriedly through one of the many tomes piled around his desk, pushing it towards him when he found the explanation he was searching for.

"I know it is most irregular, but the first council decreed that any change in vampiress rights could only be validated by the Countess' seal."

"Dracule had her executed before the formation of the first council," Vlad said, more a question than a statement.

Pyotr shifted uncomfortably. Vlad should have known - the interfering old swine had managed to hold up every piece of legislation he had worked on, irrespective of the fact he had been dead for millennia.

"Nobody has tackled the issue before now," Pyotr went on, carefully voiding his tone of any personal feeling on the subject. "However, my research suggests that the seal ring was stripped from the Countess and remained within the Dracula family."

Vlad took the parchment Pyotr offered him, studying the line drawing of the ring with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"If your Grandness knows its location, I will fetch it immediately."

Vlad waved a hand in dismissal, waited for Pyotr to leave before giving into the urge to heave a sigh.

He didn't have a clue where the ring was.

But he knew how to find it.

* * *

Stokely hadn't changed.

At least not on the surface.

As Vlad walked through the streets which had once been so familiar he was struck by each and every difference. Every reminder that he no longer belonged there. That he never had in the first place.

Mrs Branagh gasped audibly when she answered the door, and Vlad tried not to let his own shock show at how much older she looked, and how muted and drab the house now was. The atmosphere felt strange, unwelcoming, and as he was pressed into a seat by the fire Vlad wondered for the first time what he looked like to the uninitiated.

No one in his own world would even dare to meet his eye without his express permission.

"Your hands are freezing," Mrs Branagh fussed, unaware, and wrapped them around a mug of sugary tea. "You look so pale. Tired. I hope you're not overdoing it."

Mr Branagh said nothing, only eyed him suspiciously over the edge of his newspaper, then left the room when Vlad asked after the twins, and after Chloe.

"Don't mind him," Mrs Branagh said. "Robin would so loved to have seen you."

For a moment Vlad was in another time and another place, surrounded by dusty unwanted boxes, watching the undisguised awe on Robin's face as he recounted the tale of the tragic Countess Dracule.

"You can have it if you want," he had said, just like that, thrilling when Robin took the ring from him.

He had been an idiot.

In the present Mrs Branagh handed him photographs and spoke of a man he had never known. Because the Robin in his imaginings was forever fourteen years old, smart business suits and responsibility had never entered the equation.

"He works so hard," Mrs Branagh told him, voice full of pride. "He's such a good boy."

It didn't sound like this Robin had much in common with the one he had once been foolish enough to call a friend.

The visit didn't last long, not really, and it was as he was leaving that he realised the major source of his discomfort.

"Robin says garlic is good for the lungs," Mrs Branagh said fondly, rearranging the display slightly. "He's always thinking of us."

Vlad offered a tight smile and escaped into the embrace of the cold night air.

It made everything at once easier and more complicated.

Robin remembered.

* * *

Pyotr made no mention of the missing seal ring at the dawn debriefing, and Vlad was glad. He had no reason for putting off the encounter. No justifiable reason.

All day he tossed and turned in his coffin, beset by thoughts he ordinarily refused to acknowledge.

He thought of the first breather to die by his own hand, and of the terror in Bertrand's eyes behind a mask of indifference. He thought of inhuman screams as he stood unflinching at dawn executions, and the sickening crunch of bones snapping under his fingers.

Worse still, he thought of the snatched moments of contentment. The elation the first time Erin had spoken to him - lied to him - of love and commitment, and the soft press of lips against his known when it felt like pain and violence would be all he'd ever experience. The timid linking of ink stained hands, and of grand passion before reality left it decayed and ugly.

He thought, for the first time in years, of how things might have been different. How he might have been different, had Vladdy Count not had to be sacrificed to Vladimir Dracula.

He would have been the one with the smart suit and the smile, hands unstained by the blood of others. He would never have signed death warrants, or denied mercy. He would have had a soul, perhaps even a reflection.

He might even have been happy.

Vlad forced the idea from his mind. Gave orders and convinced himself it was satisfaction he felt, at the way the masses simpered and trembled at the sight of him. He didn't need anything more, didn't want it.

He would retrieve the ring, and that would be the end of it.

* * *

Robin was easy to track down, almost too easy, and Vlad stood skulking in the shadows for longer than was necessary, watching.

The photograph hadn't done the other man justice and, as Vlad followed him from a sleek office block through dank side streets, long buried memories of trading secrets and sharing experimental kisses assaulted him.

He ought to play it safe, he knew. Pretend to be an old school mate who happened to catch the same bus, or turn up at Robin's doorstep and play the role of long reunited best friends.

Else he ought to just capture Robin's gaze, leave him incapable of repeating anything suspicious about the encounter to anyone. He could do anything, Vlad thought, stomach twisting, and nobody would ever be any the wiser.

In the end vanity won, head full of fanciful notions as he landed in front of the man, all for the look on Robin's face.

A hundred possible reactions had played through his mind, from Robin swooning like a sheltered heroine, to Robin delivering a fist to his nose. Or, at the very least, attempting to.

The one he wasn't prepared for was the weight of a stake and the sharp press of something against his neck, followed by darkness.

* * *

He came back to awareness slowly, blinking painfully at bright strip lighting in an otherwise sterile room, his wrists bound uncomfortably with UV cuffs. Bars buzzed around him; they weren't taking any chances.

The thought was enough to shake off the lingering muzziness. He had been about to speak to Robin, anything could have happened -

"I think it's awake," a voice murmured, and Vlad's vision fixed on the men sat in front of him. First the speaker, sandy haired with his tie loosened, and then the other who was calmly finishing a phone call and looked for all the world like the whole situation was beneath him.

Vlad snarled, in spite of himself, at the indignity of it. "You're working with the guild," he accused, weighing up his options. Their truce was only ever tenuous.

The light haired man scoffed, riling Vlad further. "Those amateurs couldn't organise a piss up in a brewery."

He had a point, Vlad conceded. Robin coughed, enough to make the other man look sheepish, and scarcely spared Vlad a glance as he set up the recording device on the table between them.

"Interview commencing at 21:14..."

* * *

* * *

 "For the benefit of the tape," Robin was saying dispassionately, "I am showing the suspect exhibit B."

Vlad concentrated on keeping his fangs back. It had been so long since anyone had had the nerve to directly challenge him.

"Are these, or are these not the contents of your pockets?" Robin's colleague asked.

Neither man had bothered to tell him their names, or what was happening. Vlad shifted, temper flaring, and when the unnamed man tipped the contents of the clear plastic bag unceremoniously onto the table he found himself hissing,

"Do you not know who I am?"

"Our worst nightmare?" The man asked sarcastically. "The demon of the night? The scourge of old London town? Don't bother, we've heard it all before."

Vlad opened his mouth to protest, to show them exactly why even those who had most doubted now bowed to him with reverence.

Something stopped him.

Telepathy had never been his most honed skill, but even he could tell there was something different about the message being relayed to him. It wasn't probing, knowing. It felt more like a projection, its source unmistakable.

Robin's expression hadn't changed, there was no clue hidden in his stance, or the way he laid his pen calmly down in front of him. The warning was clear all the same.

_Keep your mouth shut._

* * *

"As outlined in the new ordinances, vampires must carry their papers at all times. A thorough search of your person failed to reveal said documentation."

There was a lot he wanted to say on their interpretation of stop and search, but for now Vlad remained silent. His personal guard were getting anxious, reaching out to him, and Vlad sent out reassurances. He was in no immediate danger.

All he really wanted were answers, but it didn't look like any were going to be forthcoming any time soon. He wanted to know who Robin was working for, how he had got mixed up in it. Why he was so intent on Vlad keeping quiet.

"We could have you defanged for that alone, you know," the light haired man picked up, oblivious. "Without the attempted draining."

Vlad glared back levelly, reveling in the way the other man looked away, disconcerted.

Robin seemed entirely unaffected.

"You're wasting nobody's time but your own," Robin said, and it might have only been his imagination, but when their gaze met Vlad was sure Robin was trying to tell him something.

The interview went on, Vlad trying to work out what exactly it was that was going on. Robin knew exactly who he was, of that much he was certain.

Everything else was a mystery.

* * *

Hours had passed by the time he found himself back on the streets, his belongings back in his pockets and a neatly stamped card telling him he was to report to Guild Agent 2064 to have his papers checked.

He didn't need to check to know that there was no Agent 2064. He knew everything there was to know about the Slayer's Guild, and its staff structure. He wanted to talk to Robin, wanted to throw his weight around and demand answers.

But he had underestimated once already.

Preparation would be the key to success. It always was. He deliberately refused to think about where he had learnt that truism.

The skin of his neck still felt tender and, because he had learned to trust no-one, when his debriefings were finally over he summoned Ingrid, and allowed her to peer at the mark before calling for his physician.

"If it is the guild's doing, I can have them wiped out by this time tomorrow."

Vlad smirked to himself at his sister's over confidence, but said only,

"You will do what I tell you."

Ingrid scowled, temper flaring though she managed to keep it in check. She watched as the doctor poked and prodded, and smiled gleefully at the hiss of pain he couldn't quite conceal when what had to be the real purpose of the night's adventures was extracted.

"I want this tested," Vlad said when the doctor handed it over to him. It was tiny, obviously electrical. "I want to know what it does, and why they're using it."

Who they were was probably a better place to start, but he didn't want to sound clueless in front of someone who wasn't family.

Ingrid returned an hour or so later, dropping a report to his desk which Vlad instantly snatched up. Instead of simply leaving, Ingrid grinned at him,

"I just want you to know that this has been the best night of my unlife."

As he skimmed through the report it quickly became clear why. It was unethical, dangerous and humiliating.

And, worst of all, he didn't even have the seal ring to show for it.

* * *

There wasn't time to make any further inquiries. His aides too busy were flapping about in any case, desperately trying to get embassy offices ready for the latest saga in the campaign for peaceful co-existence.

The slayers who arrived for the summit lacked any sign of the enthusiasm these talks had once engendered, and as they took their places around the table it was clear both sides felt they were only going through the motions.

Vlad remained quiet for the most part, waiting for the right opportunity. It came when the meeting adjourned for refreshments, and Vlad let himself wallow in a moment of petty victory when he succeeded in creeping up on Jonno quietly enough to cause him to spill coffee everywhere.

"Nice spread today," Jonno said, all false smile as he dabbed at his jacket with a paper napkin.

Vlad nodded, gave a smile of his own. It was the smile Bertrand had taught him to think of as his diplomatic smile. Bertrand would have been proud to know that it had never failed to have the desired effect.

Jonno swallowed audibly, would have babbled on to fill the silence. Instead Vlad leaned in close, pitched his voice for Jonno's ears alone as he said,

"How many of these meetings have we attended now? How many times have we been so close to signing a treaty, only for some trifling detail to ruin everything?"

Jonno nodded agreeably, but Vlad didn't miss the way he lowered his refilled coffee cup and saucer slowly to the table, as though he were concentrating intently on keeping his hand from shaking.

"Trifling details," Vlad went on, tone low and dangerous now, "like the microchipping of vampires. We're not dogs, van Helsing."

The collar and attached name tag Ingrid had left neatly wrapped for him that morning had not improved his feelings on the subject.

Jonno took a step away, and held his hands out placatingly. "That wasn't our idea," he protested. "I told them that nothing good could come of it."

"And who are they?" Some of the other slayers were approaching now, Jonno's distress obvious. Vlad set his own cup down and snapped his fingers, his latest batch of junior advisers scurrying.

"This meeting is over."

Commotion broke out around him but Vlad ignored it.

He had more pressing business to attend to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	122. Vlad/Robin - Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request fic for the prompt: "Robin/Vlad; Robin's been ignoring Vlad, Vlad sends him a smutty text, Robin comes over: SMUT. PLEASE."

“Aw, die, come on! Die!”

“Er, Hi?” Vlad paused in the doorway, taking in the way Robin was pummelling at the controller in his hands, not even bothering to grunt in response. Sighing he shut the door and made his way over to the bed, dropping down next to Robin. “Is that it then? You’re not even going to say ‘hello’? Give me a kiss?”

“What?” Robin snapped, grimacing as the tide of the pixellated war turned against him. “I’m busy!”

“Looks it,” Vlad muttered bitterly but it was too late.

Robin’s attention was already elsewhere.

* * *

It continued all through the next week, Robin irritably telling him that they didn’t even have a television in his halls of residence and, if he was so bothered, why didn’t he just play himself. 

Vlad didn’t think admitting that the ‘awesome realistic gore’ Robin kept raving about made him feel like sinking his fangs deep into Robin’s neck would go very far in persuading Robin to turn. It. Off.

By the time Robin had finally succeeded in advancing past the militia Vlad had decided that enough was enough, eyes narrowing as Robin crowed in glee at the screen. He was Robin’s boyfriend, and he was not going to take second place to some stupid third rate computer game.

* * *

“I got your text,” Robin said, cheeks flushed and slightly breathless, like he’d made his way up the hill at full speed. Vlad grinned, 

“Yeah?”

“Were you,” Robin swallowed, eyes wide as he sat next to him, gesturing at his mobile phone screen, “being serious?” 

Unable to keep the smirk off his face Vlad asked, “What do you think?”

Robin flushed then, the rush of blood making Vlad’s fangs ache. He still hadn’t mastered enough control to stop them descending freely. He ran his tongue across them self-consciously, feeling far more confident faced with the way Robin’s eyes went dark at the sight. 

He scarcely had time to feel triumphant before Robin was launching himself at him, pressing him down into the mattress and stroking his own tongue along the sharpened points. It sent thrills through him and Vlad wrapped his arms around Robin, crushing him closer. Insistent hands pushed at the fabric of his sweater, trailing heat across his chilled skin.

“You’re overdressed,” Robin murmured, breaking away from his mouth and encouraging him to sit up. In seconds Robin had him stripped to the waist, hauling his own t-shirt over his head before dropping his head to press kisses to the curve of his neck. Vlad arched into the touch, letting his own hands wander Robin’s bare torso, soaking up the warmth.

Robin pushed him back down then, making short work of removing the rest of his clothing, leaving wet open-mouthed kisses along his inner thigh. Vlad bit back a groan when Robin pulled away, meeting his gaze with eyes full of nervous excitement. “Do you still want to?”

Fingers skimmed not quite close enough causing Vlad to clench his eyes shut and concentrated on nodding and not embarrassing himself. He felt the bed dip as Robin shifted and tried not to panic. He had been the one to suggest this.  

Vlad bit at his lip, embarrassment warring with the desire to just beg Robin as hot breath made him shiver all over. Robin’s fingers curled around him and Vlad forced his eyes open, tentatively touching his own hand to Robin’s weeping erection. Robin gasped, the sound choked and desperate, and it sent a wave of heat over him.

Robin chose that moment to swipe his tongue across the head of his cock and the last of his embarrassment faded away, swamped beneath want. Wrapping one hand securely around the base he lowered his head, trying to keep his fangs out of the way. Robin moaned his name, low and strained, and returned the favour. 

The feel of Robin’s mouth on him, hot and wet, never failed to drive him wild and he went at it with more enthusiasm, touching his fingers to Robin carefully, reveling in the way the other boy shook and groaned around him. Vlad could tell that Robin was close, the tremors running through him and the way his technique was getting sloppier, breaking away to pant against his thigh and beg him not to stop. 

He dug the fingers of one hand into Robin’s back, pulling him closer, swallowing around him as his other hand brought himself off with frantic strokes, slick with Robin’s saliva. Robin clutched at him, chest heaving as he tried to warn him,

“Vlad, I can’t – I’m going to –“

Vlad keened, the breathless desperation in Robin’s voice sending him over the edge, even as Robin shook and flooded his mouth, collapsing against him. Vlad kept at it for long moments, liking the way Robin shuddered against him, until Robin pushed him away, unable to take any more. 

When Robin showed no signs of moving Vlad took the initiative, moving so he was curled into Robin’s side, staring into his dark eyes, uncaring of the fact they were at the tail end of the bed. 

“So,” Vlad grinned, pressing a kiss to Robin’s still flushed cheek, “Was it better than playing your game?”

Robin reached for him clumsily, limbs heavy and uncooperative. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been rubbish this week.”

“And last week,” Vlad protested.

“Alright,” Robin conceded, lips quirking, “and last week.” He brushed his lips against Vlad’s softly, the way he always did when trying to get on his good side. It always worked. 

“Does that mean you’re going to stop playing it?” Vlad asked suspiciously when he got enough sense back to remember why they were there in the first place. 

“Of course,” Robin said solemnly, stroking his thumb across Vlad’s cheek. At Vlad’s incredulous look a crooked grin spread slowly across his face, “I finished it, just before I got your text.”

Vlad glared, “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“What do you take me for?” Robin laughed, pulling him closer. Vlad’s attempts to stay angry failed the instant he looked up, Robin’s laughter infectious. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” He sighed with mock resignation, laying his head on Robin’s chest.

“You were obviously,” Robin told him in his best ‘I know everything’ voice, “a very good little vampire in your previous unlife too.”

Vlad just smirked and wrapped his arm around Robin more tightly. 

Obviously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	123. Robin / Vlad - Blanket Fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted in 2009.

“It’s freezing in ‘ere,” Robin complained, eyeing up the thick layer of snow gathering on Vlad’s window ledge. “Aren’t you cold?”

Vlad looked up from his Council papers and shrugged, “Not really.” He gave Robin a miserable smile, “I’m always cold now. I can’t tell the difference.”

“Yeah, well,” Robin whined, oblivious to or deliberately ignoring Vlad’s maudlin tone – Vlad wasn’t sure which – “Some of us aren’t dead. Can’t you do your fire thing or something?”

“I’d rather not,” Vlad admitted, looking pointedly at his rug, still blackened and singed from last time. He got up from the bed, inspiration striking. “You can borrow a jumper if you like,” he took one from his wardrobe and handed it to Robin.

Robin looked at it as if it might bite him. “It’s yellow.”

“Yeah,” Vlad said, waiting for elaboration. He knew it was yellow.

“I don’t wear yellow.”

Vlad rolled his eyes. “Nobody’s going to see, are they?” Except for him. He thought Robin would look cute in yellow. He didn’t think it would be an argument that would sway the other boy.

Robin hesitated for a long moment, gaze flickering from the jumper to the window and back again. Finally he shrugged out of his coat and hauled the jumper over his head, hastily bundling the coat back on and wrapping his arms across his chest.

“Any better?” Vlad asked, clambering back onto his bed and dropping his notes to the floor. He could never concentrate when Robin was around anyway.

“No.” Robin sulked. “I’m still cold.” He breathed out in an exaggerated way, breath misting in the icy cold of the room. “I can see my own breath.” Scowling at Vlad he went on, “I’ll probably freeze to death or something. I’m not sleeping on the floor.” He looked down at his sleeping bag in distaste.

Vlad swallowed, an obvious solution presenting itself. Question was; did he dare suggest it? He stuttered, “You could share with me.” Before he had time to embark on a sufficient panic at the fact he’d said it aloud, Robin’s hand was sliding up his forearm, pushing up the material of his sweater as he went. For all his complaining, Robin’s hand felt burning hot against his own chilled skin. “What-“ he croaked, having to start again as the touch of questing fingers sent tingles through his entire body, “What are you doing?”

Robin frowned, “Thought so.” Vlad found himself unable to answer, Robin’s hand still curled around his arm in a loose grip. Robin shook his head, “It’ll be like sleeping with a corpse.”

He sniffed deeply before realising Robin was referring to his body temperature, not odour.

“Still,” Robin sighed, removing his hand, “It’ll be better than nothing.”

* * *

Vlad couldn’t remember ever having been so desperate to go to bed in his entire life. He’d washed his face, cleaned his teeth, and got into his pyjamas in three minutes flat. Once he was back in his own bedroom, Robin complaining bitterly about anything and everything, he was terrified.

It was one thing to have Robin – the object of all his increasingly x-rated dreams – sleepover when there was a good four foot between them. It was quite another when that distance contracted to less than four inches.

He got into bed hesitantly, pulling the covers to his chin and lying tense and still in apprehension. Robin returned from the bathroom a few minutes later, wearing pyjamas and the jumper he had borrowed, and clambered in beside him quickly.

“It’s so cold, Vlad,” Robin murmured. Vlad could hear his teeth chattering in the semi-darkness, only a few candles left burning. “I never thought I’d say this but, next week, you’ll ‘ave to sleep round mine.”

Vlad turned to peer at Robin. It must be serious if Robin was willing to give up an opportunity to spend a night at the castle. Up close he could see the way Robin was shivering, could feel it. Before he had time to think about whether or not it was a good idea, he’d shifted closer, rubbing one hand up and down Robin’s upper arm in an attempt to warm him up.

This near Robin felt warm to Vlad, breath hot and damp on his neck where he was leaning over him. The heat seemed to be impairing his ability to think clearly, his own body feeling as if it were on fire as the thought ‘Robin’s in my bed!’ went round and round in his head.

“Vlad?” Robin’s tone was breathless and Vlad’s hand stilled on his arm. Vlad met Robin’s gaze slowly, swallowing at the dark heat in the other boy’s eyes. He could hear Robin’s heart pounding, was sure that, if it could, his own heart would be doing the same thing. When Robin’s hand came up to curl softly around the back of his neck, fingers pushed into the base of his hair line, Vlad was glad it couldn’t. The excitement the simple touch engendered would probably have killed him.

As it was he could barely keep still, his own hand moving from Robin’s arm to his cheek almost of its own volition. He had dreamt of it so many times he could hardly believe it was happening. Robin’s breathing was laboured, his other hand trailing under the material of his shirt, the touch forcing him to close his eyes with the effort of staying in control.

Robin didn’t seem to have any such concerns, gentle pressure on his neck encouraging him to press closer still, to touch their lips together. The hand moved from his neck into his hair, angling his head as Robin deepened the kiss, the wet heat driving him wild. He couldn’t get close enough, had Robin pinned underneath him and was pulling at the hem of his jumper within minutes.

Frustrated, he finally sat back for a moment, letting Robin pull it over his head before taking it from him and throwing it to the floor. As soon as it was gone he launched a fresh assault on Robin, kissing him desperately before breaking away, trailing open mouthed kisses down the pale skin of the other boy’s throat.

The feel of blood pulsing under his tongue was more intense than he could have ever imagined, and he groaned into the crook of Robin’s neck, the press of thigh making his head swim even as he gave in to the mounting urge and sucked wetly at pale skin. Robin’s reaction was as gratifying as it was sudden, his head arching back, entire body surging up to press closer, hands clutching at him feverishly.

“Vlad,” Robin moaned, “Harder. Please.”

He obliged willingly, clamping down harder, the thought of marking Robin exciting him further. Everyone would know that Robin was his. He felt his fangs extend, shivering as they scraped skin. Robin was writhing beneath him, the grip on his hair tightening, a constant stream of gibberish passing his lips.

And, then, there was a hand pressed between them and Vlad couldn’t hold back, barely stopping himself from breaking skin as he bit down, limbs trembling. He could feel Robin shaking against him, gasping for air, clinging to him.

When he finally felt capable of moving, Vlad squirmed into a more comfortable position, head resting on Robin’s shoulder, arm across his chest. He could see the mark on Robin’s neck, already a deep, angry purple. It filled him with a pride he knew he probably shouldn’t feel.

Robin pulled the covers up around them, wrapping an arm around Vlad and pressing a clumsy kiss to his forehead. Vlad shut his eyes, knowing he was grinning stupidly.

“You sure you’re not going to be too cold?” He asked after a moment, stifling a yawn.

“If I am,” Robin said seriously, smiling all the same, “you’ll just have to warm me up again, won’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	124. Robin / Vlad - Lost in Translation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original author notes from 2008: _Vlad is so clueless... Inspired by Automatic Apple's awesome V/R fic, "Naive". Quote: “ When Robin’s brothers wound them up about being “Gay”, Vlad thought that being too happy was a bad thing in Britain; when the boys at school boasted about the girls they’d “had”, Vlad looked on bemused. He had later asked Robin if, when they said “had” they meant “Had round for tea.” ” Hehe._

“I’m not a virgin!”  

“Come off it,” Paul said, shaking his head, “You’re obviously a virgin.”  

Ian nodded, “Who’d sleep with you?” He pulled a face at the thought, clearly disgusted.  

“Loads of people, actually!” Robin spat back, folding his arms across his chest and sulking.  

“Like who?” Paul asked, sharing an incredulous look with his twin brother.  

“Like,” Robin paused, “well,” unable to think of anyone he snapped, “loads of people!”  

Ian shook his head, “Face it, Robin. You’re a loser. Nobody is ever going to sleep with you.” Paul laughed and the pair high-fived.  

“Boys,” Mrs. Branagh called from the kitchen, “Stop being so horrible to your brother.” She emerged to stand in the living room doorway, “You should follow Robin’s example. Wait.” She smiled at Robin, oblivious to the discomfort she’d just caused him, before disappearing. The twins fell about laughing.  

Vlad watched the way Robin blushed, hurt writ clear all across his expressive face and came to a decision. “I’ve slept with Robin.” Robin gaped at him, jaw working but no sound emerging.  

Paul laughed harder, “Yeah, right.”  

“No, I’m being serious.” Vlad took a deep breath, feeling his own blush burn across his cheeks, “Me and Robin have slept together.” The twins stared at him in open mouthed shock, laughter forgotten.  

“You?” Paul managed.  

Ian shook his head, “and him?” Vlad nodded solemnly, placing a hand on Robin’s arm. Robin wrenched his arm away, staring at Vlad as if he were deranged.  

“We ‘aven’t!” Robin finally forced out, tone desperate. “He’s lying!”  

The looks on the twins’ faces made it clear: it was too late for denials.

* * *

“What did you do that for!?” Robin yelled at Vlad the instant his bedroom door was shut behind him. He paced the room, “I can’t believe you just did that.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair, “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done!?”  

Vlad watched the display anxiously. He hated to see Robin upset. He hated it even more when he was the cause of it. “I was only trying to help. I thought you’d be happy.”  

“Happy!?” Robin snapped, looking anything but. “Why would I be happy that you just told my brothers I’m gay!?” He paused, balling his hands into fists in frustration, “You’re supposed to be my friend, why would you lie like that?” Robin sank down onto the foot of his bed, head in his hands.  

“I didn’t say you were gay,” Vlad said frowning. Because, he hadn’t. Maybe Robin was just angry about the implicit nature of the thing. Maybe he didn’t want Ian and Paul to think he’d be happy about having slept with Vlad. He hadn’t really thought it through. “You looked embarrassed,” he said by way of explanation, thinking of the way Robin’s cheeks had coloured when the twins had implied he was still a virgin. “I didn’t think it would matter who you had slept with.” He laughed nervously, “I’m not that bad, am I?”  

Robin stared at him incredulously. “Vlad, you’re a guy.”  

“Yeah,” Vlad started slowly, confused, “I know.” He wished he understood what Robin’s point was. He felt like this so much of the time, like everyone else was talking another language that he only understood the gist of, never the intricacies.  

“Guys don’t sleep with other guys!” Robin told him, with just a hint of hysteria, when Vlad failed to say anything else.  

“They don’t?” Vlad pondered it for a minute. They certainly did in Transylvania. Aloud he asked, “Why not?”  

“Because - ,” Robin waved a hand agitatedly, “Because they just don’t!” He looked even paler than usual, his skin almost translucent in the gloom of his bedroom. Vlad thought he looked beautiful but, bearing the current conversation in mind, decided it better if he kept it to himself.  

Robin went on miserably, “They’re going to tell everyone. I can never show my face again.” He looked at the window, “How far away from Stokely do you think I could get with,” he rooted around in his pocket, squinting at the loose change he found, “four pound, twenty seven pence?” He shook his head, murmuring to himself, “Not far enough.”  

“Robin,” Vlad started tentatively, “don’t you think you’re being a bit over dramatic?”  

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Robin asked snarkily. “Everyone’s going to laugh at me – at us! Nobody will ever speak to us again.”  

Vlad frowned, “They don’t anyway.”  

“That,” Robin glared at him murderously, “is not the point.” There was a tense silence that stretched out for long moments before Robin finally asked, “Won’t your dad be mad if he finds out?”  

“No,” Vlad answered, shrugging. “He’d love it if I,” he hooked his fingers in the air, “seduced a helpless breather.”  

“I’m not helpless!”  

Vlad shot him a pointed look, “I haven’t seduced you either.”  

“Oh, yeah.”

They lapsed into silence again.  

“You’re not really mad at me, are you?” Vlad asked when he could stand it no longer. “I didn’t know it was a bad thing. I just,” he shrugged, “thought it would impress Ian and Paul.”  

“Impress,” Robin shook his head as if he’d just said something amusing. He sighed. “It’s alright, Vlad. It’ll have to be alright.” He shifted to lounge back against the wall, his long legs hanging over the side of the bed. “I’m never going to get a girl now though.” He looked at Vlad accusingly, “Never.”  

“Sorry,” Vlad winced. An idea formulated in his mind. “But, you know – if everyone already thinks we’re gay,” he looked at Robin for confirmation this was the word he wanted. Robin’s scowl didn’t alter so he assumed it must be. “Then,” he kept his gaze on his hands, nervously twisting them in his lap, “if you wanted to, we could just - .” He took a deep breath, face burning, “You know. You and me.”  

Robin stared at him like he was completely insane.  

“Oi, Robin!” Paul’s voice sounded through the door, fist banging on the door. “Mam wants a word with you!”  

“Yeah,” Ian called, sniggering, “Stop feeling Vlad up and get downstairs!”  

Robin hauled himself to his feet, scowling for all he was worth. He wrenched the door open and hovered for a moment, just long enough to jab a finger in Vlad’s direction and warn, “It’s going to take more than that to make it up to me.” He slammed the door behind him and Vlad let out a sigh, slumping back against Robin’s bed.  

That’s what he’d been afraid of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	125. Robin / Vlad - Losing Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonno wants Vlad to know that he can be saved... Originally posted in 2009.

“Oh, Vlad,” Mrs. Branagh said on opening the front door to him, tone apologetic, “he’s not going today.”

Vlad narrowed his eyes. How convenient of Robin to be ill the day of their joint history presentation. To Mrs. Branagh he said, “Can I get my notes off him?” He couldn’t resist adding, “We’re supposed to be doing a presentation.”

Mrs. Branagh nodded, and Vlad made his way up the stairs, determined to give Robin a piece of his mind. He quickly changed his mind on pushing Robin’s bedroom door open and getting a good look at him. His skin was a clammy grey, his breathing sounding thick and laboured in the silence.

“Robin,” he said quietly, sitting on the side of Robin’s bed and laying a hand on Robin’s forehead.

“Did my Mam let you in ‘ere?” Robin rasped out, grimacing at the discomfort it caused him. His face and throat were swollen up, the latter attracting Vlad's attention for long moments before he forced himself to focus on Robin’s face.

“Yeah, I need those notes for history.”

“’Ow are you supposed to fancy me,” Robin choked out, reaching awkwardly for a file balancing precariously on his bedside table - Vlad was privately amazed that Robin had actually done the work – and handing it to him. He finished, “When you see me looking like this?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Vlad said fondly, bending to kiss Robin chastely, colds and flu not being something he had to worry about. He deliberately went all out with his next words, wanting to cheer Robin up, “If you had a paper bag over your head, you’d still be better looking than every other guy in Stokely.”

“Yeah, well,” Robin grinned for a moment then subsided into a fit of coughing.

Vlad touched his cheek briefly, eyes concerned, “Get some rest. I’ll come round later.”

Robin managed a weak “thanks, Vlad,” before curling back into his blankets.

* * *

Vlad watched unseeingly as Jonno Van Helsing pinned up notices on the board opposite him, prefect badge proudly on display. He wondered if Robin would think it was cute or stupid if he brought him some flowers. Maybe sweets would go down better, he thought. Those ones in the shape of bugs, full of gooey entrails. Robin would appreciate that.

He was still thinking about it when he realised Jonno was speaking to him. He looked up at the other boy in confusion and Jonno started again,

“I was just saying, you should come to our meeting at lunchtime. With Robin away and everything.”

Vlad peered at the notice board, ‘Christian Club’, and swallowed nervously. “I, er, don’t think I’d really fit in.”

Jonno fixed him with a strange look, and sat down at his table. “Vlad,” he said solemnly, “You’re exactly the sort of person we’re trying to help.”

“I am?”

“Yeah,” Jonno nodded enthusiastically, “You might think that Jesus has turned his back on you but,” Jonno shook his head, “he hasn’t.”

Vlad looked away, muttering, “Jesus doesn’t know the half of it.”

He knew where vampires went, his Dad enjoyed crowing about it in glee too much for him not to.

“He knows what you are, and he forgives you,” Jonno said simply.

Vlad frowned, fear rising, “H-how do you know?” He was supposed to be the Grand High Vampire. His hypnosis should only wear off when he said so.

Jonno scoffed slightly at this, “You don’t exactly try very hard to hide it.” 

Vlad looked down at his uniform, wondering what exactly about his appearance was giving his secrets away. “Are you going to try and kill me now or something?” Vlad asked in hushed tones, glancing warily around the room.

Jonno looked horrified.

“You’ve got it all wrong, Vlad. Totally wrong. We want to help you, not punish you.” He stood up and shoved a flyer into his hands, “Come. I really think we can make a difference.”

Vlad stared at it in bemusement until the bell rang for the end of break. Robin doing his homework. Jonno Van Helsing accepting his vampirism.

Today was just getting weirder by the second.

* * *

“Vlad, you came!” Jonno beamed at him and Vlad sat down in the proffered seat self-consciously. He was starting to feel like an idiot for turning up.

What if his Dad found out he’d been there!?

“Everyone,” Jonno addressed the other members, and Vlad was surprised at how many faces he recognised, “this is Vlad.”

There were murmurs and smiles of welcome and Vlad started to relax. The room was full of other people who did their homework and wore their uniform according to the school rules, he felt like they had something in common.

After the practicalities there was a lot of scuffling in bags as bibles were produced. Vlad had to share with Jonno. They talked about the importance of peace and tolerance, without Robin speculating in his ear about how much Holy Water you would need to dissolve a vampire like in his real RE lessons, and, by the end, Vlad felt like maybe Jonno was right. 

Maybe there was a place for him here.

* * *

“So,” Robin asked, voice scratchy and strained, “How did you cope without my brilliance to entertain you?” He punctuated the question by biting the head off a jelly spider and grinning as its gooey guts welled around the teeth marks.

Vlad smiled back at him, congratulating himself on making the right choice, and said, “I went to Christian Club with Jonno.”

“You did what!?” Robin protested so severely he started coughing, clutching at his throat, and grimacing in pain.

Vlad helped him sip some water, “It was okay, actually. Jonno’s not so bad. I think he remembers about me,” at Robin’s wide-eyed shock he elaborated, “But he says that Jesus loves me anyway.”

Since he had worn the Crown the Van Helsings had been putting their former enthusiasm for reducing his entire family to ashes, into the church. He much preferred it.

“I bet he did,” Robin said bitterly, sinking back against his pillows. “Didn’t waste any time, did he?”

“Robin,” Vlad started slowly, smiling in disbelief, “Are you jealous?”

“No.” Robin bit out, not meeting his gaze.

Vlad waited a moment.

“Maybe, a little bit,” Robin was pouting, looking more pitiful than ever, wrapped up in his extra blankets and his hair sticking up at the back.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” Vlad reassured, wishing Robin was well enough to be kissed properly, but settling for a soft kiss to his cheek, “trust me.”

“I do,” Robin whined. “I just don’t trust Van Helsing.”

* * *

Robin was still too ill to go to school the next day, and the next. Mrs. Branagh told him he’d most likely be off all week, if not longer. And, so, Vlad found himself sat at lunch on his own, wishing Robin was there to keep him company.

He was still feeling sorry for himself when Jonno Van Helsing came to sit next to him.

“I’ve got something for you,” Jonno said, smiling, handing him a pocket sized copy of the New Testament. Jonno had made a point of speaking to him every day. Robin’s resultant sulking was adorable.

“Aw, thanks.” Vlad smiled back, feeling awkward, imagining what Ingrid would do to him if she found out he had such a thing in his possession. Not wanting to bring his family up – just in case Jesus’ love didn’t stretch to all three of them – he said instead, “Robin won’t be happy. He thinks you’re all trying to brainwash me.”

Jonno’s face fell, expression uncomfortable. “Vlad, we can only help you if you want to be helped.” He bit at his lip, seemingly debating what he could say. After a moment Jonno seemed to make the decision to say what was on his mind anyway, “Perhaps it would be easier for you to try to avoid temptation for a while.”

At Vlad’s look of confusion, Jonno went on, “I just mean, maybe, Robin is a bad influence.”

Vlad scowled, although grudgingly accepted in his mind that it was probably true. Nothing could get him studying vampire lore, or wearing a cape faster than the thought of the awed look it would inspire on Robin’s face. Aloud he said, “I can’t just avoid Robin, he’s my best friend.”

“Look,” Jonno placated, “Why don’t you come to our prayer meeting tonight? They’ll be able to explain better than I can.”

Vlad hesitated, and then thought of the welcoming acceptance he had felt earlier that week and nodded.

What could it hurt?

* * *

“Well, that’s just charming,” Robin said, voice muffled as he rolled over and spoke to the wall, “I’ll just lie here – dying – and you can go an’ ‘ave fun with Jonno Van Helstinks. I don’t care.”

“Robin,” Vlad soothed, putting a hand on Robin’s too-warm shoulder, “Don’t be like this.”

Secretly he was quite enjoying the overt display of possessive jealousy. Normally Robin would try to act as if it were impossible for him to want anyone but Robin; it was pulling at his heartstrings to see that Robin wasn’t really that confident.

“How else am I supposed to be?” Robin croaked back sullenly. “Just admit it. You like Jonno better then me.”

Vlad glanced at his watch. He still had twenty minutes before he needed to leave to meet Jonno. He looked back at Robin and kicked off his shoes, clambering into bed next to him and pulling Robin to his chest.

“For someone who claims to be a genius, you really are an idiot at times.”

Robin said nothing, but laid his head against Vlad’s chest, not resisting when Vlad linked their fingers together.

“Why would I want Jonno – or anyone – when I’ve got you?” Vlad asked quietly, stroking soothing patterns across Robin’s back with his free hand. “I love you.”

Robin squeezed his hand tighter and Vlad smiled, it was as close to saying it back as Robin had ever got.

* * *

“Ready?” Jonno asked when he reached their arranged meeting point. Vlad nodded, thinking of the way he’d left Robin sleeping peacefully, and let Jonno lead the way. 

They didn’t go to the old church in the middle of town, for which Vlad was grateful. It made his skin prickle and his hair stand on end every time he went past it. Instead they carried on walking until they reached a modern looking building which ran the youth club Robin outright refused to attend on Friday evenings.

Mr. Van Helsing greeted him warmly once they were inside – as if he hadn’t given him and Robin over ten detentions already that term for talking in class – and introduced him to so many people he was sure he’d never remember any of their names.

When they sat down they sang a song, reinforcing his impression that Robin would never step foot in the place, and Jonno whispered that the upcoming talk would explain everything he’d been trying to tell him.

Vlad listened intently as the speaker got up and introduced himself, telling the congregation that he’d “like to give an especially warm welcome to those of you who are here for the first time.”

Jonno gave him an encouraging smile and Vlad squirmed uncomfortably, suddenly nervous. What if everyone knew what he was? Why hadn’t the thought occurred to him before?

Within minutes he was gaping, words like ‘sin’, ‘temptation’ and ‘unnatural’ ringing in his head. And then he was resisting the urge to give in to relieved laughter, biting at his lip and pressing a hand across his chin, fingers covering his lips in an attempt to look serious. Jonno was nodding in agreement next to him, and he thought about how much Robin was going to laugh when he found out. 

He was such an idiot.

* * *

It was gone ten when he was back on the Branagh’s doorstep. Luckily Mrs. Branagh didn’t seem to think this at all unusual and let him in with a smile, telling him Robin really appreciated him coming round to cheer him up. He couldn’t help but pick up on the veiled ‘we’re all so happy you’re coming round to cheer Robin up, he’s driving us insane’ and grinned back.

Up in Robin’s bedroom he was met with a sulky glare, Robin’s arms folded across his chest. “’Ave a good time, did you? Come to gloat about it, ‘ave you?”

“It was brilliant,” Vlad teased, pulling his coat off and dumping it into Robin’s chair. “Best night ever.”

Robin scowled harder and reached for a bottle of cough syrup, in a show of ignoring him. Vlad toed off his shoes then took the bottle from him and sat down on Robin’s bed, unscrewing the cap and picking up a spoon.

“I’m not a baby, Vlad,” Robin protested, but let Vlad spoon feed him the medicine all the same.

“You’re acting like one,” Vlad said smiling, no bite to the words. “No, I didn’t have a good time. No, I’ve not come to gloat about it.” Robin looked at him curiously and he went on, “Jonno doesn’t remember. I think he’d be hard pushed to remember what a vampire is.” He grinned widely at Robin, shifting under the blankets with him, “He’s been trying to save my non-existent soul.”

Frowning, Robin asked, “From what?”

Vlad let his fingers touch Robin’s throat for a moment, then slid his palm along his jaw instead, meeting his dark gaze,

“You.”

Robin’s eyes went wide and Vlad couldn’t resist pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“I told you he didn’t have any designs on me.”

“That,” Robin said, sounding more confident, pushing scorching hot fingers into the hair at the nape of Vlad’s neck, “is because he’s an idiot.”

“I can’t wait ‘til you’re better,” Vlad murmured, hands itching to explore Robin’s heated skin.

Robin squirmed under the intense regard, “Me neither.”

Vlad forced himself to just lie down and keep his hands, if not to himself, then at least on relatively acceptable parts of Robin’s body.

“Vlad,” Robin started quietly, wrapping one arm around him, “I do trust you.”

“I know.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Robin’s head, and whispered happily, “I love you.”

Robin shifted his head to look up at him, expression soft and scared and serious all at the same time, “I love you too.”

Vlad grinned and pulled Robin closer still.

It looked like Jonno was going to be fighting a losing battle.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	126. Robin / Vlad - comic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little comic I drew back in 2008. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	127. Robin / Vlad - smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to my LJ in 2009. Robin ignores Vlad's wishes...

“Vlad,” Robin groaned in his ear, pulling him closer and pressing kisses to the exposed skin of his throat. It was that which broke through the haze of pleasure in his head and forced him to push at Robin’s chest. To move away.

This was not why he had snuck in through Robin’s bedroom window.

“What’s wrong?” Robin asked, the obvious concern on his expressive face making what he was about to do a thousand times harder. 

Vlad wrung his hands together, not able to look Robin in the eye. “We need to split up.”

“What!?” Robin demanded, voice overly loud in the otherwise silent household. “Why!?”

“We have to,” Vlad told him, screwing his eyes tight shut against the sting of tears. He didn’t want to, he hoped Robin understood that. If he had a choice he would never give up what they had. “It’s next week, Robin. Next week.”

“So that’s it then?” Robin’ tone was cold. “I’m not good enough for you now you’re going to be areal vampire.”

The stress on the last two words was vicious and Vlad shook his head in frustration. They had been having the same dead-end argument about it for months. He was not going to put himself in a situation where he could kill Robin.

“You know that’s not the reason,” Vlad said, getting up from the bed and pacing. “What if I, I dunno, lose control and bite you or something?”

“Then I’ll be a vampire too and you can stop worrying about it.”

“Robin!” Vlad wished Robin could understand what he was saying. “I would never, ever turn you. Ever!”

Robin stared at him for a moment, expression flashing from hurt to anger to some kind of resignation that made Vlad want to look away.

“Fine. Whatever.” Robin made a show of straightening out his blankets, getting ready to go to sleep. “Get out of my room.”

Vlad hesitated for a long moment, the desire to go and beg Robin to forgive him almost overpowering him. Biting his lip he turned away and made for the window.

He knew he was doing the right thing.

There was no other way it could be this painful.

* * *

“Today is the day!” The Count could hardly keep still with excitement, sitting in his throne one moment, hovering over Vlad at the breakfast table the next. “The day my son becomes the most powerful vampire to have ever unlived.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Ingrid said disinterestedly, flicking through the newspaper, “He’ll probably beg it to kill him so he doesn’t have to do it himself.”

“Ingrid!” The Count snapped, “Your brother cannot wait to fulfil his destiny. Can you Vlad?”

“Hmm,” Vlad managed, pushing his cereal round and round the bowl. It was going to be awful. An eternity of drinking blood. An eternity of controlling the desire to destroy everything in his path.

An eternity without Robin.

The bell sounded and the Count crowed with glee. “It is time.”

* * *

“No, I won’t forget,” Vlad ground out. His temper felt so much closer to the surface, it was a struggle not to just give in and storm from the room like he wanted to do. It felt like he had been introduced to every vampire on the planet. All he wanted was to go to bed. Bed, not the coffin Granny Dracula had sent him.

“And after biting practice, you’ll be expected at the Council,” Granny Westenra went on, pausing to eye him up and down in displeasure. “He gets it from you, Dracula.”

“Yes,” the Count clapped a hand on Vlad’s shoulder, “his roguish charm and devilish good looks.”

“No,” Granny said, fixing the Count with a pointed look, “his blatant wimpirism.”

Ingrid sniggered as Granny Westenra pulled her cape around her and disappeared from the room.

The Count stood gaping before bringing a heavy booted foot down on the nearest surface. It just happened to be Renfield’s toes.

Vlad surveyed the resultant chaos with a pained expression. Ingrid doubled over laughing as Renfield spilled the leftovers he had been taking to the kitchen all over the Count.

It was definitely time for bed, he thought, sneaking silently from the room.

He’d earned it.

* * *

Up in his bedroom he unclasped his best dress cape and threw it to the floor. He could still taste the acrid tang of blood from dinner. He wanted more, even as the thought of what it was made him feel sick. There was a shuffling noise and he froze.

“Who’s there?”

His every muscle was tense, ready to pounce when a familiar figure palmed on the light switch. 

“Robin!” Vlad was at the other boy’s side in an instant, fingers almost touching his cheek when he remembered why he was supposed to be avoiding him. “What are you doing here!?”

“Anyone’d think you weren’t happy to see me,” Robin said sniffily, folding his arms across his chest. 

“I-“ Vlad bit back the growl starting low in his throat; he was in control. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

There was scarcely any space between them and Vlad was surprised he wasn’t being driven half mad with bloodlust. He had thought he would be able to smell Robin, to sense the pulse of blood beneath his skin.

“I know, I know, in case you bite me,” Robin rolled his eyes and took hold of Vlad’s pale wrist, bringing his hand up to his chest. Vlad watched with wide eyes as Robin pressed his palm over his heart. Instead of heat and the steady thump that ought to be there, there was nothing. 

Vlad wrenched his hand away, fear rising.

“What,” He looked into Robin’s eyes, noticing for the first time how dark they were, how they were missing their usual humour, “What have you done?”

The words came out as a whisper, the desperate thought that he didn’t want to know ricocheting around his head. Robin smiled at him, although it looked nothing like any smile he had seen from Robin before. It was seductive and sinister, not the crooked grin that invariably made his stomach turn somersaults. 

“Your Dad did it,” Robin took a step towards him, radiating confidence.

Vlad jerked away. “What!?”

“I asked him to,” Robin touched a hand to his jawbone, looking more like his usual self. In a way it was worse because it meant that it was really happening. “I did it for you.”

“No!” Vlad shook his head, batting the hand away. The strain of the day seemed to overwhelm him; the long and vicious fight with his reflection he had started to think would never end. The scrutiny of the elders at the feast. The weight of expectation on his shoulders. 

And, then, his worst nightmare come true.

He met Robin’s gaze, “Whatever you do, don’t ever say you did this for me.”

* * *

“I don’t understand why you’re being like this,” Robin sighed, trailing his fingers along the lid of Vlad’s new coffin. Vlad rubbed at his temples. He had spent the last half hour yelling at his father, being met with the same casual indifference. Why was he the only one who could see how awful the situation was? “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal!” Vlad winced at how hysterical he sounded. “What are you going to say when you can’t go to school tomorrow!? Oh, sorry Mum, didn’t I tell you I was going to join the ranks of the undead!” He was on his feet by this point, yelling into Robin’s face.

“You’re fit when you’re angry.”

“Robin, I’m being serious!”

“So am I.”

It was like all the insecurities that Robin had harboured had disappeared. The hand that slid into his hair, holding his head in place was totally sure of itself. The kiss Vlad found himself pulled into was controlled and forceful, as if Robin had absolutely no doubt of his right to demand it.

Even as he knew he shouldn’t, Vlad submitted, letting Robin plunder his mouth, slide his hands underneath his shirt and push him back towards the bed. The backs of his knees hit the edge and Robin kept pushing, clambering on top of him, mouth leaving his only to start a separate assault on the sensitive skin of his neck.

“Robin,” it came out as a breathy moan, nothing like the commanding tone he had wanted. He shuddered violently at the scrape of what he instinctively knew were fangs against his throat. Robin was tearing at the buttons of his shirt, sending plastic flying, before scrabbling forcefully at his belt. 

They had never done anything like this before, never done anything other than exchange kisses and slide nervous fingers against the exposed strip of skin between shirt and waistband. It was sending waves of heat through him such as he had never expected to be able to feel again.

Robin was sucking at his neck, finally getting his belt free and, after a moment of fumbling with his fly, wrapped a hand around him. One of Vlad’s hands came up to clench in Robin’s hair, holding his head in place, the other pulling at Robin’s shirt, pressing him closer still.

“Do you want me to stop?” Robin asked, words muffled against his throat and Vlad shook his head, thrusting up into Robin’s hand even as part of him screamed that he shouldn’t. That what was happening was all wrong.

Then Robin was moving, dropping soft kisses across his chest, hand leaving him only to pull his clothing out of the way. Vlad only realised what he was about to do when he pressed a kiss to the inside of his thigh. He raised himself up his elbows, the heat prickling at his skin as Robin met his gaze, dark eyes almost black. And, then – then – he couldn’t think, couldn’t stop, couldn’t do anything other fall back against the bed and moan.

“Robin,” dimly, somewhere, there was the vague idea that his grip in Robin’s hair was tight enough to hurt, but Robin didn’t stop. The slick wet heat of his mouth bringing him to the brink so fast he was trembling all over. “Robin,” he tried again, warning this time, as the press of tongue convinced him that he wouldn’t – couldn’t – last much longer. 

Robin didn’t move away, if anything grew more enthusiastic as Vlad went still save the compulsive quivering of his limbs. He clenched his teeth, his grip in Robin’s hair tightening still further, senseless noises falling from his lips at being so close. And then it was happening, pleasure sharp and bright as Robin swallowed around him.

He slumped back into the bed, chest heaving with exertion; gulping in great lungfuls of air he didn’t need in an attempt to calm his raging emotions. Robin crawled back up to face him, collapsing in a sprawl of gangly limbs. Vlad reached a hand for him, sliding it down his side, across his hip and finally pressing it to the front of Robin’s boxers.

“I-“ Robin diverted his gaze slightly, looking embarrassed for the first time that night, “I had to – You looked so – I couldn’t stop myself.” Vlad smiled in spite of himself, tangling the hand instead back in Robin’s hair, careful to be gentle this time, and kissed him.

When they pulled apart he tried to be serious, worry surging within him again. “What are we going to do?”

Robin laid his head on Vlad’s chest, hand reaching for the one not in his hair and curling their fingers together.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, voice quiet, “I didn’t do it for you. I just-“ He paused, thumb stroking against his hand. “I didn’t want to be without you.”

Vlad shut his eyes, happiness and terror for the future warring for dominance. “I love you too, Robin. You know that.”

Robin ‘hmmm’ed, and Vlad could feel his smile against the exposed skin of his chest. They’d work something out, he thought as he held Robin’s hand tighter. He’d make sure of it.

“Vlad!” Robin sat up suddenly, fixing him with wild eyes. “What am I going to tell my Mam!?”

Somehow ‘I told you so’, Vlad thought, staring back in bemusement, just didn’t cover it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	128. Robin / Vlad - More Smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Vlad really is clueless. Originally written in 2009 for the flip a coin challenge at the boys4all community on LJ.

“How about we flip a coin?” The heavily made up actress drawled to a rather unfortunate looking man. “Heads you win,” she grinned lecherously, “tails you lose.”

Vlad was gaping at the television set and Robin grabbed the DVD case from the end of the bed. This definitely wasn’t ‘Bats from Hell’. He should have known better than to pick a film from the twins’ room.

“You are a lucky boy, aren’t you?” The woman on the screen purred, hands caressing her colleague’s chest, “Why don’t you show me what you’ve got for me?”

Robin cringed at the terrible dialogue and the way Vlad’s eyes went as wide as saucers. In spite of being both over 18 and Grand High Vampire, Vlad was still the most naive person he knew. It was what made it so difficult to cope with the planet sized crush he’d been having on him for the last four years. Give or take a few months.

“What’s he doing?” Vlad squeaked out, even as Robin searched frantically for the remote control. “He can’t do that!”

Robin stopped to glance at the screen, just in time to see one masculine hand slide into its owner’s tight jeans. Ian and Paul were officially dead for putting him through this torture.

“Sorry, it’s the wrong film” Robin blustered, cheeks flaming red, “where’s the thing to turn it off!?”

Vlad didn’t answer, gaze transfixed, and he had to endure another long minute of breathy moans in close proximity with the star of all his own fantasies before the screen finally went black.

The silence was deafening and Robin shifted uncomfortably for more reason than one. He fervently hoped Vlad couldn’t tell.

Eventually Vlad turned to him, frowning, “Why was he doing that?”

Dying of embarrassment was a real possibility, Robin thought desperately as Vlad stared up at him curiously.

“Because – because, you know,” Robin waved a hand to encompass the whole procedure, wondering if it was possible to self-combust from blushing so much.

Vlad evidently didn’t know.

“But - it makes you go blind.”

“Uh,” was all he could manage. He should be thankful, he supposed, that at least Vlad knew what it was and he would be spared having to demonstrate. That was the wrong word he thought hastily, head spinning at the flash of lust inspired by the combination of Vlad’s earnest expression and the thought of teaching him how to touch himself. Clearing his throat he croaked out, “It doesn’t.”

He ought to know, the frequency with which his friendship with Vlad forced him to resort to his right hand.

“Have you really never?” He breathed after a moment, unable to stop the words passing his lips.

“Have you?” Vlad asked, a faint tint of pink in his cheeks that meant, were he anyone else, he’d be blushing hotly to the tips of his pale ears.

“Everyone does,” he murmured, embarrassed. This was not the sort of thing he should be talking about with Vlad. Not if he wanted to stay sane. Not, he bit his lip as his fingers accidentally brushed his thigh, trying to get his hands nonchantly in his lap to hide what the conversation was doing to him, if he wanted Vlad to stay his friend.

Vlad was watching him with dark eyes now, the atmosphere thick and stifling around them. “What do you think about?”

Robin had to look away, clenching his eyes tight shut for a moment. It was a bad idea. His mind filled instead with technicolour images of exactly the sort of thing he thought about. Vlad writhing beneath him, flushed and wild and perfect as he was given free reign over the expanse of his milky white skin.

“Sometimes I want to so badly,” Vlad’s voice was low and quiet, making Robin’s hand twitch and his jeans feel painfully tight, “I never thought – I never knew,” cool fingers touched his wrist and Robin forced himself to look at Vlad. What he saw made him swallow convulsively, lust washing over him in waves even as abject terror warred for dominance. “If-” Vlad’s gaze flickered from his face to his lap and back again, “If I did,” Vlad exhaled shakily, fingers sliding softly against the skin of Robin’s wrist, “I’d think about you.”

It was too much, he reasoned. He would have to be a saint to restrain himself after a confession like that. Luckily Vlad seemed more than happy with the way he launched himself at him, pinning him beneath him and kissing him desperately, even as he ground himself against Vlad’s leg. His own thigh was pressed firmly against Vlad; the way the other boy rocked into it threatening to short circuit his brain.

He had imagined this moment too many times to count. Their first kiss. He tried to control himself, to make it as soft and tender as he knew Vlad would want it to be, but couldn’t. Vlad’s hands were clenched in his hair, his entire body arching up against him, and he couldn’t slow down, couldn’t stop sucking wetly at Vlad’s tongue, the taste of him so thrilling he had to push a hand between them, struggling with the buttons of his fly to release the painful pressure of constrictive fabric.

“Vlad,” he groaned as his hand wrapped around himself, finally breaking away from Vlad’s mouth. Vlad’s heated gaze raked over him, darkening further when he realised what was happening. He reached out and touched his fingers tentatively to the exposed head, hand closing around it in a loose grip when Robin unclenched his own fingers. “Oh God,” Robin panted, unable to do anything other than gasp into the sweat slick skin of Vlad’s neck. “Oh God.”

And, then, Vlad moved his hand experimentally and it was all he could do to keep still. The thought that this was the first time Vlad had done this, any of it, sent flashes of heat through him. He moved his own hand to trail down the cool skin of Vlad’s stomach, enjoying his sharp – if unnecessary – intake of breath. He hesitated for a moment at the waistband of Vlad’s trousers, unsure if this was really what Vlad wanted.

“Please,” Vlad whined out brokenly, “ _please!_ ”

Robin shifted to look into Vlad’s face, fingers fumbling with buttons at the sight of fangs. To have made Vlad lose control, to have made him desperate enough to arch up into his hand the second his hand wrapped around him. To be the cause of the strangled “fuck” that escaped Vlad’s lips as he threw his head back, the hand on his own cock tightening and moving faster in sharp, erratic movements.

It was too much.

He returned the favour, thumb brushing carefully over the head on the upstroke, claiming Vlad’s mouth in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. Vlad’s free hand twisted into his hair, the other quickening still further. Even though the angle was awkward Robin stroked in the way he liked himself once, twice, three times before Vlad went rigid and still, calling his name in a half sob as he came over his hand. The sensation, combined with Vlad’s tight grip, was more than enough to bring him to his own climax.

He rested his forehead against Vlad’s shoulder for long moments, drawing in great shuddering breaths, finally thinking to remove his hand.

Vlad pulled at the fabric of his T-shirt, hands smoothing across his shoulders in a way that made him just not care about the mess he was going to be in. “Robin?” He moved obligingly, touching fingers to Vlad’s still flushed cheek. Vlad returned the gesture, expression anxious, kiss reddened lips maddeningly just out of reach. “I love you.”

Robin kissed him then, the soft, gentle slide of lips he’d been incapable of earlier. He pulled back and smiled, “I love you too.” Vlad grinned and snuggled closer to him, head coming to rest against his chest.

Trying to arrange his clothing into some sort of order Robin whispered, “See, you haven’t gone blind, have you?”

Vlad curled closer still, pulling one of Robin’s arms around him, and replied sleepily, “I didn’t do it myself, did I?”

‘No,’ Robin thought happily as Vlad’s instinctive breathing slowed and deepened, rubbing at the smaller boys back absently, ‘but there’s always next time.’

* * *

* * *

[Part Two]

Vlad looked up from where he was struggling with his cufflinks to sniff the air deeply. He frowned, “All I can smell is my aftershave.”

Ingrid coughed, grimacing. “How much did you put on? Ever thought of just taking a bath?”

“Haha, very funny,” Vlad said, sarcastically, finally getting the clasp down. “Robin likes it.”

He patted at his hair again, hoping it wasn’t sticking up all over the place again. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to not having a reflection.

“So that’s what you’re tarting yourself up for,” Ingrid smirked. She put on her mocking baby voice, “Are you going to hold hands in the back row of the cinema?”

Vlad pulled a face and shook his head, all the while secretly hoping that Robin would hold his hand. The only time he had gotten chance to it had felt like their palms were made for each other, a perfect fit.

He thought about the circumstances of the hand holding and felt a faint blush rising in his cheeks. Every time he thought about it, it made him feel like his skin was on fire. Ingrid’s lip curled as she took in the change to his complexion and, had Robin not chosen that moment to know the door, Vlad got the impression he would have suffered some serious humiliation.

* * *

“If this film is rubbish, it’s your fault,” Robin complained as they made for the back row, Robin weighed down with popcorn and cola. “You want to think yourself lucky, nobody else would sit through it for you.”

Vlad smiled and dropped into a seat, taking a handful of Robin’s popcorn. “I’ll have you know,” he said around a mouthful of totally off-limits sugar coated corn, “that I’ve been offered the blood of an entire village for just an hour of my time.” He raised an eyebrow, enjoying the shocked look on Robin’s face.

Robin sat down, banging him with his elbow as he did so. Vlad grimaced but didn’t complain; he liked that Robin took up so much space. It meant he was always touching him.

“Dunno why,” Robin said fondly, pushing the armrest down so their sides were pressed together.

Vlad swallowed, Robin’s body heat making him want to press closer still. But, he bit at his lip, glancing at the other boy from the corner of his eye, Robin might not want him to. He might not want anyone to know. Robin solved the problem for him, draping an arm around him and dropping his head to sniff appreciatively at the skin of his neck in a way that raised gooseflesh all over. Robin’s lips brushed his ear as he whispered,

“You wouldn’t ‘ave a clue what you were doing.”

“And you would?” Vlad choked, trying for incredulous. It sounded more like a plea and he forced himself to focus on the fact that they were in a public place.

“I’m an expert,” Robin grinned, raising a lecherous eyebrow and slurping at his drink. Vlad shifted in his seat, suddenly wishing that Robin hadn’t wanted to take him on a date. “I’ll show you if you like,” his voice was low and dark, fingers trailing along his arm making his skin tingle, “when this film finishes.”

He was being punished for his choice of film, Vlad could tell. The triumphant smirk on Robin’s face was a dead giveaway. Vlad reached for the popcorn again, crunching noisily in an attempt to take his mind off the insistent pressure of his zipper.

Robin, he decided, was going to get a taste of his own medicine.

* * *

* * *

[Part Three]

“Be polite, don’t bite,” Robin read the slogan aloud with a pained expression. “I thought you said you were trying to win over support.” 

“It rhymes,” Vlad said testily, snatching the paper from Robin’s hands and shoving it under the bottom of his pile of reports. It was bad enough people laughing at him in Council three nights a week. He didn’t need Robin to do it too. 

He was still pointedly ignoring Robin when a hand fell on his shoulder.

“Come on, Vlad, I was only mucking about.” Robin shifted closer and Vlad had to concentrate on being angry with the other boy. It would be so easy to just give in.  Robin, sensing his weakening resolve, leaned in to breathe hotly into his ear, “’Aven’t you done enough work tonight?”

Resolve went out of the window, reports forgotten as he turned to see Robin staring back at him intensely, a hint of a smirk on his face. 

“What do you want to do?” Robin grinned lecherously and Vlad quickly amended the question, “We could go to the pictures?” 

“I don’t think so,” Robin shook his head, “Nearly died of boredom last time.” He raised an eyebrow, “You couldn’t wait for it to be finished anyway.” He lowered his voice, hand dropping to Vlad’s thigh, grinning fit to split his face, “I want to stay in.” 

“Okay,” Vlad managed, proud of the fact his voice stayed level. In spite of not being able to stop thinking about it, they hadn’t really done anything other than kiss since that first time. The look on Robin’s face suggested that was about to change.

Vlad felt simultaneously excited and terrified. Robin’s fingers inched up his denim clad thigh and he swallowed, meeting Robin’s dark eyes. He wished he knew what to do. 

Robin took pity on him, lifting his free hand up to tangle in his hair, lips touching softly against his own, pressing gentle, fleeting kisses again and again and again. His other hand was tracing patterns along his thigh, until Vlad was squirming; wanting Robin to just hurry up. 

And then, finally, Robin deepened the kiss, pushing him to lie down on the bed, his hand pressing against the insistent erection Robin’s actions had inspired.

“Robin,” he gasped, pressing his own hand down on top of Robin’s, thrusting up harshly, desperate for more friction. Robin went still – completely still – and for a moment Vlad was afraid he’d done something wrong, committed some tremendous social blunder that would ruin everything, before Robin was grinding against him with renewed fervour, claiming his mouth and struggling to get his jeans undone. 

He could feel Robin pressed hard against his leg, tongue thrusting wetly into his mouth in time with the movement. After long moments of struggling they were both naked. When Robin’s hand wrapped around his dick he had to clench his eyes tight shut, fingers digging into the flesh of Robin’s back. 

To his surprise Robin let go then, pulling back to look at him, cheeks flushed and lips glistening. Robin slid a hand up his forearm, gripping his wrist and pushing his hand between them, expression torn somewhere between frenzied lust and fearful anxiety. 

“I-“ Robin swallowed, eyes flickering from his face down his body and back again. The flush across his cheeks grew darker, with embarrassment or desire Vlad wasn’t sure. “I want to watch you.” He couldn’t get his voice to work and Robin bit at his lip, “You don’t ‘ave to, if you don’t want to. It’s just –“ his gaze was wandering again, the blush spreading down his neck. “It’d be so hot.” 

“Hot?” Vlad repeated dumbly, not really understanding what Robin would get out of it. He imagined if the situation were reversed, if Robin were to lie there and touch himself, getting off on just the sight of him. A wave of lust crashed over him and suddenly he understood, met Robin’s gaze as confidently as he could – which really wasn’t very – and said, “I still haven’t done it.” 

Robin groaned, a deep, guttural noise, the hand that was still around his wrist jerked involuntarily, the pressure enough to make Vlad not care that he must look like an idiot. He wrapped his hand around himself, biting at his lip at the unfamiliar sensation, moving it experimentally. 

He could hear Robin breathing heavily next to him, could feel his body heat, could sense the pulse of blood beneath his skin. He reached his free hand for him desperately, crashing their mouths together as his movements grew quicker. The kiss was sloppy and wet and mind blowing, knowing that the awkward angle of Robin’s head was the result of the other boy watching what he was doing. 

It felt different to when Robin had done it for him. His hand was smaller and not – as he’d often lamented - attached to the rest of Robin. But, he was in control, could squeeze just there. He had to break away from the kiss, the overload of sensation too much, his normally icy skin feeling as if it were on fire. 

He forced his eyes open to see Robin mimicking his own actions and suddenly he was burning all over, muscles tensing as he gripped harder, coming messily over his fingers. Robin was on him instantly, tongue thrusting slickly into his mouth, his hand slapping against his thigh on the upstroke. It was a good thing he didn’t need to breathe, Vlad thought, tremors still running through his limbs. 

Robin panted harshly into his mouth as he came, collapsing heavily against him. “Oh, Vlad,” he gasped into his shoulder, sucking in great lungfuls of air, “that was amazing.” 

“Yeah,” Vlad agreed, meeting Robin’s sated smile with one of his own, deliberately not thinking about how badly they both needed a shower, “I don’t know why I waited so long.” He grinned wider, “I can still see.” 

Robin shifted a little then, just enough to drop a soft kiss to his lips, “You know what you need to do now?” Robin smirked, the same smirk that had always made his heart beat quicker before his transformation, and said, 

“ _Practice_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	129. Vlad / Robin - Clubbing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally written in 2008. The original author's notes were: _'Years later Vlad and Robin run into each other in a nightclub. Vlad might have taken Robin’s memories, but at least he can give him back his confidence.' I have actually written a sex scene. A proper one, as in, it contains more than one person and their hand. I feel as though I have passed a rite of passage! Lol. That's a round about way of saying: WARNING! This fic has explicit (by LJ terms of usage) sexual content. If that's not your thing, please don't read._

“Come on Robin! Come and ‘ave a dance.”

Robin shook his head and shrank further back against the wall; he really was not in the mood. Not for the deafening tweeny-bopper chart music, not for the writhing mass of sweat-soaked students, and, most definitely, not for making a fool of himself on the dance floor. Gavin shook his head in exasperation and disappeared into the crowd, gyrating himself up against every girl along the way.

Sighing, Robin took a gulp from the bottle of cheap larger Gavin had pressed into his hand seconds after they’d stepped through the door. Everyone was out tonight for Dave’s birthday and Robin had been so happy to be invited. It had begun to feel like he was going to be Robin the freak – Robin the loner – forever. But, now that he was here, he wasn’t so sure that would be such a bad thing. 

He scanned the drunken revelry in front of him; a group of girls were grinding against each other to his left, all dressed in barely-there nurses uniforms. To his right were a couple attempting to extract each others tonsils. In front of him a rowdy group of boys were jumping about, playing air guitar.

Feeling even more of a loser than usual, Robin fished his mobile phone from his pocket and fiddled about with it, hoping it made him look like he had friends, not like he was just some sad tosser with nothing better to do.

* * *

“Smell that Vlad?” Vlad grunted noncommittally. “That is the smell of a good time.”

Vlad watched as Andrei pushed his way into the pulsating crowd, girls flicking their hair and smiling their interest as he passed. Vlad knew he wouldn’t see him again before sunrise. He didn’t know why he let Andrei talk him into this every time they were in Britain; ‘Let’s go out Vlad; have some fun.’ He supposed they just had differing definitions of fun.

Still, he picked his way around a couple of guys who were stumbling around and sloshing drink everywhere, it was nice to pretend to just be a normal guy for a night. Go out, get drunk, dance, get laid. Isn’t that what most twenty year olds did? Even if he rarely got to the last part.

The night might have passed like countless others; with him drinking and flirting and, finally, deflecting someone’s well meant advances in order to go home and think improper thoughts about someone he’d once known. Probably would have had the crowd not parted at that moment, had his gaze not fallen on the one person he’d tried harder than anyone else to forget.

Robin Branagh.  _The_  Robin Branagh. The Robin Branagh he hadn’t seen since he was fifteen years old. The Robin Branagh whose cape he still kept, balled up and hidden, in the bottom of his coffin.

He couldn’t stop staring; an effect Robin had always had on him. But now, Vlad inhaled deeply - trying to pick out his scent from the dozens of others – now, Robin had grown from a geeky boy into a gorgeous man. The way he was leaning nonchalantly against the wall, either oblivious to or deliberately ignoring the admiring glances aimed in his direction, was doing funny things to Vlad’s state of mind. Vlad decided that it had to be the latter of the two options; there was no way Robin could be unaware of the attention he was attracting, not when he looked like that. He must be inundated with offers.

And then, Robin’s eyes met his and if his heart had been capable of beating, it would have skipped a few right then.

* * *

Robin glanced down at himself anxiously; perhaps he’d spilt larger down his shirt, or his fly was undone. There was no way that the guy staring in his direction was interested in him. Finding nothing amiss Robin was faced with the idea that maybe, just maybe, somebody really did find him attractive. 

He supposed that it was bound to happen at some point. He was a nice looking lad, so his mam said, and he made an effort with his personal hygiene, unlike most of the guys he was sharing halls with. Still, he’d resigned himself to being the weird guy who everyone ignored unless they wanted recommendations for a good gore film, or were desperate for someone to make up the numbers on a night out.

But – Oh God – he was coming over. He looked familiar somehow; maybe they had lectures together? Or maybe he was part of the film club? No, Robin decided, nobody who looked like that would be seen dead at the geek-fest that was horror film club.

Before he could dwell on it any further the stranger was right in front of him; flashing him a small smile that made his knees weak.

“Want to dance?”

Inexplicably - inevitably - Robin found himself nodding and letting himself be led onto the dance floor.  

* * *

Despite not having touched a drop of alcohol all night Vlad felt drunk. Like he was floating on air. And how could he not? With Robin crushed close against his chest, his own hands resting lightly on Robin’s back. Robin’s body heat chasing away the marrow deep chill he could never shift.

Vlad shifted his head and pressed his lips chastely to Robin’s, just as he’d dreamed of doing; only half certain the other man wouldn’t pull away in disgust. He was about to move back, wanting to gauge Robin’s reaction, when Robin’s hands were suddenly in his hair, holding his head in place. And, then, Robin was kissing him properly. When Robin’s tongue swiped against his own Vlad was all too aware of his own undignified whimpering. He hoped Andrei wasn’t watching; he’d never live it down.

Yet, even as he clung tighter to Robin, he knew that what he was doing was wrong. There was no way Robin would have agreed to dance with him like this if he knew who he was. Probably wouldn’t have agreed to it at all had he not put more than a little hypnotic persuasion behind the question in the first place.

“Rob!?” 

Vlad caught himself, just in time, from snarling at the man interrupting them and concentrated on forcing his fangs to retract as Robin slid from his grip to face his friend.

* * *

Robin felt light headed and it took him a moment to focus on Gavin’s shocked face. When he did he felt sick to the pit of his stomach. He’d only just managed to make some decent friends; now they wouldn’t want to know him. 

"It's not what it looks like!" 

Robin looked nervously back at the man – Vlad - and tried to think of a further explanation that wouldn’t relegate him back to being the biggest loner on campus. Gavin followed his expression and visibly made an effort to smile reassuringly. 

“Rob, don’t look so worried, it’s okay. I swear. I were just shocked. We,” he motioned to Dave who was lip-locked with some girl Robin vaguely recognised from his Cultural Change in Medieval Europe lectures, “just came to tell you everyone’s going on to Revs.” He looked at Vlad pointedly. “I’m guessing you’re going to stay here?”

Robin swallowed. He could feel Vlad’s hand resting lightly on his shoulder; it was strangely comforting. If he left now it wouldn’t go any further. He wouldn’t risk making himself look like an idiot. But he realised, as the light-headed feeling swept over him again, he wanted it to go further. Nodding to himself in resolve he answered, “I’m okay here, have a good time though yeah?”

Gavin’s face broke into a lecherous grin. “That’s more like it Robin!” He grabbed hold of Dave’s shoulder, who looked more than a little reluctant to leave himself, and called over his shoulder “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

Robin grinned and turned back to Vlad who stared at him in a way that made him shiver. 

“Sorry about that.”

Vlad just murmured something he couldn’t decipher before leaning in and kissing him again.

* * *

Vlad fought with his conscience all along the short walk back to Robin’s hall of residence. He shouldn’t do this. It went against everything he was striving for with the new Vampire constitution. Prohibition 14b; Forcing a breather to do something against their nature for one’s own benefit. Was that not exactly what he was doing?

But every time Robin’s fingers brushed his own, the two of them walking close enough to attract more than a few stares, it made it hard for him to think clearly. When Robin fumbled with the lock, finally giving up and pressing Vlad against the door, kissing him desperately, Vlad knew with certainty. He was going to do it anyway, consequences be damned.

He took the key from Robin’s numb fingers and let them in, the smell of Robin’s lust fevered blood making his own movements awkward and clumsy. Once inside they fell onto Robin’s unmade bed, kissing and clutching at each other.

It quickly became clear that Robin had little idea of where to go from there, something which both surprised and excited Vlad, and he assumed control of the situation. Supporting his weight on his forearms he trailed kisses along Robin’s jaw, down the milky white skin of his neck. The feel of Robin’s blood pulsing beneath his tongue had him grinding himself against Robin’s thigh, struggling to keep his fangs in check as he sucked at Robin’s pulse point, raising a vivid lovebite against Robin’s unblemished skin.

He kept at it until Robin was writhing helplessly against him, panting harshly. Vlad finally lifted his head and took in the wild look in Robin’s dark eyes. They stayed like that for a long moment, just staring at each other, and then, as if by unspoken agreement, they were both tearing at the other’s clothes.

As soon as he’d thrown the last item of clothing to the floor Vlad returned his attention to kissing as much of Robin as he could. If this was his one chance to be with Robin he wanted to commit every inch of him to memory. He pressed kisses to his shoulder, the crook of his elbow, up the soft skin of his inner thigh. Robin was whimpering incoherently and raking blunt fingernails down his back by the time Vlad decided neither of them could take much more teasing.

Flashing Robin a devious smile, he wrapped one hand around the base of Robin’s cock, taking the weeping head into his mouth. He used his other hand to try and keep Robin’s hips still as they bucked up reflexively. The groan that escaped Robin’s kiss swollen lips when he pressed his tongue against the underside was almost his own undoing. The sight of Robin straining up, hands fisted in the bed sheets, throat bared had Vlad desperately wrapping the hand he’d had on Robin around his own dick.

Neither of them lasted long. Robin gasped his name as he came and Vlad swallowed, even as he came over his own hand. Vlad wiped his hand in his discarded shirt before collapsing next to Robin, pushing the damp hair back from Robin’s forehead as he leant in and kissed him softly.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Robin blushed but smiled shyly at the compliment. Vlad felt his heart constrict at the sight and wished he could stay like this forever; happy and content in Robin’s arms. Knowing that he couldn’t he blinked away the sting of tears and settled for pulling Robin closer, so his head was nestled against his chest, and rubbing his thumb in small circles against the back of his neck until Robin fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning Robin had woken up to an empty bed but, somehow, it hadn’t really mattered. He felt better than he had in years. He had prospects. He had friends. He had even managed to go out and pull the hottest guy in the entire club. Smiling he had hauled himself out of bed, yawning widely as he did so. Swinging his feet down onto the carpet he had spotted a neatly folded square of paper on his bedside table that definitely hadn’t been there the day before.

_“Robin,_

_I’m sorry that I couldn’t stay. I’m sorry for everything. I’ll never forget you._

_Yours eternally, Vlad.”_

It was only later, after everyone had given him some good natured ribbing for his absence at Revs and the weird note - ‘no wonder he made a beeline straight for you Rob!’ - Robin had realised that the note had not been the only thing Vlad had left behind. 

Amidst the clothing he’d hurriedly shed the night before he’d found a ring, the signet ring he’d seen on Vlad’s hand. 

There was also one thing missing. 

A single photograph had been taken from his notice board. One of him when he was still in school, dressed in a Stokely Grammar sweater and a vampire cape, arm flung around the boy he had never been able to remember, the one everyone assured him had been his best friend. Vlad.  

He was never able to convince himself that it was all just coincidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	130. Robin / Vlad - slashthedrabble prompt 'accident'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vlad tries to be vampiric. Written for slashthedrabble prompt 'accident' back in 2009 or so.

Bloodthirsty, heartless, devoid of any and all compassionate emotion. That was how he was supposed to be, he knew. At Council he did his best, snarling and flashing his fangs at the opposition. Sneering down his nose, and whispering dark threats when he didn’t get his own way.

It was what was expected of him, he understood.

As time went on it became almost second nature. As if he could no longer remember where the mask he wore ended and the person he was began.

It was his fate, he accepted.

Perhaps he would have forgotten eventually that there had ever been a divide between the two. Perhaps. He never had to find out, fingers clenching around the arms of his throne in shock as a familiar figure was thrown down at his feet. Eyes wide with disbelief as Robin –Robin – scowled up at him.

It was love, he’d always been certain.

He’d always wanted Robin. Had pined, and wished and dreamed endlessly about Robin wanting him in return. Later, he had chosen men who looked like him; dark eyes, dark hair, pale skin. Robin had stared him down, the opposition asking why there was a breather still living in the chamber. Why he had yet to tear out Robin’s jugular for daring to look him in the eye.

It was better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.

That’s how the saying went.

It was a lie, Vlad knew. Without Robin he hadn’t the courage to be who he was, to be anything other than a washed out stereotype. 

He would lead the vampire race into a new age, he thought as he sank fangs into the willing flesh of Robin’s neck.

But he would do it with his best friend at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	131. Robin / Vlad - biting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't we all want the same thing?" Or, Robin gets a shock.
> 
> Originally written and posted to my LJ in 2009.

I think I’d be amazing at it,” Robin said, looking at his hand and wiggling his fingers in consideration, “don’t you?”

Vlad pulled a face and raised an eyebrow, glad that everyone had given them the customary wide berth and weren’t listening in to this conversation. Sometimes he thought they had a point. Robin was weird.

“I just need a girl to practice with,” Robin went on, cocking his head to one side. Vlad scowled and debated giving Robin a lecture before deciding against it. Robin might be able to see that his opposition was not entirely moral. 

“I don’t really care who,” Robin mused. “Although, obviously,” he smirked at Vlad who looked back steadily, distaste written clearly across his face, “Ingrid is still top of the list. She’s so hot when she does that headlock thing.”

“You need help.” Vlad looked back down at his physics textbook, carefully copying out a definition of electromagnetic waves in an attempt to stop himself staring at the fading mark on Robin's neck. Rain pelted loudly against the wide classroom windows and the whole room smelled wet and earthy, like their temporary crypt had in Budapest. “Serious help.” He wasn't entirely certain if he was referring to himself or Robin.

“We can’t all live like monks, Vlad,” Robin told him solemnly. “It’s not normal, you know,” he shook his head, “you should at least be trying to get your leg over.”

“Robin!” Vlad hissed, looking around anxiously. Robin just shrugged, no sign of contrition. “Anyway, I thought being normal was so last century,” Vlad mocked when he was satisfied nobody had heard, grinning crookedly at the look Robin gave him in return. “It’s different for vampires, anyway,” he avoided Robin’s eye, hoping he wasn’t blushing too badly, “it’s – well, it’s just not the same.”

He didn’t really want to go into the detail. Not now, in the middle of double physics when he was already fighting not to just lean in and press his lips back to Robin's skin. Not ever, actually.

“You’re such a liar,” Robin scoffed, finally picking up his own pen and making a start on some work. “Look at Ingrid.”

Vlad restrained himself from pointing out that, technically, Ingrid was a vampiress, and that, actually, if Will hadn’t been turned into a blood sucking monster in his own right, he’d have more than likely have had something to say about the whole issue. Not a very nice something at that. Instead he just kept his attention on his exercise book and hoped Robin would leave it there.

He should have known that Robin was nothing if not persistent.

* * *

They were lounging about in Vlad's bedroom after school; Vlad sat with his homework balanced across his lap, biting at his lip as he grappled with the finer points of Welsh grammar. Robin was sprawled languidly across his bed, books unopened at his side and his arms pillowed behind his head.  “

So, come on then,” Robin broke the silence, turning his head to look at him – exposing his throat and making Vlad bite down hard enough on his lip to coat his tongue with the metallic tang of blood. It did nothing to soften the blow of Robin’s next words, “How is it different for vampires?” He grinned lecherously, “All rainbow kisses, is it?”

“Don’t be so disgusting,” Vlad grimaced. Robin carried on staring at him expectantly and Vlad sighed, looking down at his book, “It’s sort of hard to explain.” Robin used his foot to push his schoolbooks to the floor, propping himself up on one elbow and giving Vlad his full attention,

“We’ve got all night.”

“Haven’t you got better things to do than ask me about,” Vlad faltered, “that sort of thing?”

“Um,” Robin glanced around him as if searching for something before looking back, “no.” He beamed encouragingly, “Off you go.”

Vlad worried at his lower lip, more blood filling his mouth and overriding his common sense. Robin was watching him intently and the room suddenly felt far too hot. “It’s embarrassing,” he managed eventually, not daring to look up to gauge Robin’s reaction.

“Is it really gross?” Robin asked eagerly.

“No!” Vlad scowled at him, “It’s just embarrassing talking about,” he waved a hand agitatedly, “well, you know.”

“There is nothing you can say to shock me, Vlad,” Robin said earnestly. “I know it all.” He scooted closer. “Don’t be embarrassed, you know you can tell me anything,” he smiled easily, “I’ve had your slobber all over my neck, can’t be any worse than that, can it?”

Vlad squirmed uncomfortably. That, right there, was the problem. “You said you wanted to help me practice biting,” he protested, a little too defensively. “You kept on and on about it.”

“Alright, keep your hair on.” Robin shook his head, “I just didn’t see the point in you finding some stranger when I’m right here. Anyway,” his tone turned scolding, “Stop trying to change the subject.”

Cheeks burning with a mixture of guilt and embarrassment, Vlad fidgeted, “I’m not.” Avoiding Robin’s eye he said hurriedly, “That’s what we do, most of the time, I mean, sometimes, we don’t – well we don’t just do that – but mostly we just,” he gulped in a breath, tensing all over as he risked meeting Robin’s dark eyes, “ _bite_.”

“Bite?” Robin repeated slowly, eyes wide. Vlad nodded nervously, wishing, not for the first time, that he’d had far greater self control and not given in to Robin’s breathy, ‘Bite me, Vlad. You know you want to.’ “So, let me get this straight,” Robin glared at him, “and there’s a pun – all this time I’ve been doing the decent thing and letting you practice, you’ve been getting off on it!”

“Well,” Vlad gave him an apologetic look, “you have got a really nice neck.” His eyes were drawn to the pale skin of Robin’s throat and Robin put a hand round it hurriedly, self-consciously. “I can’t help it!” Vlad protested.

“You could have kept your mouth to yourself,” Robin told him heatedly, still clutching one hand to his throat, as if for protection.

“You offered,” Vlad whined. Because, Robin had. Like something out of the grainy film reels he’d once caught Great Uncle Armand watching back on one of their annual visits to Hungary. Robin did not look appeased,

“That was before I knew you were – were - were enjoying it too much!”

Vlad wrung his hands together at that, suddenly curious. “Didn’t you like it?” He asked quietly.

“Oh my God.”

“I did try,” Vlad went on, desperate to explain himself now that Robin knew the truth about the situation, “but I haven’t done it with anyone else so I wasn’t sure if I was doing it right. It felt amazing but - ”

“Please stop talking.”

“I really wanted it to be good for you too –“

“Vlad!” Robin yelled, finally getting his attention. “Shut up.”

The silence dragged and Vlad couldn’t keep still, twisting his fingers into his bed covers. When he could stand it no longer, had to know what was going through Robin’s mind, he blurted, “Does this mean you don’t want to practice with me anymore?”

Robin met his gaze incredulously, “And you think I need help?”

“So,” Vlad pressed, feeling his stomach sink, “that’s a no then?”

Robin heaved a sigh, gaze fixed on some point behind Vlad’s head.

“It’s an ‘I’ll think about it’.”

Vlad smiled. It’d be alright.

He was nothing if not persistent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	132. Count / Mrs Branagh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a WIP I never wrote more of. Originally written and posted in 2009.

“Get out, you evil witch!”

“Flattery,” a second voice retorted, “will get you nowhere!”

Vlad groaned and clambered out of bed, peering out of his bedroom window into the darkness. Light from the castle was spilling across the driveway, his mother’s figure upright and haughty as her baggage was flung at her feet.

It was always the same. She turned up professing to have rediscovered her undying love for the Count. Then, after a few days of causing havoc and mayhem, she was thrown out on her ear and it was as if she had never been. 

“And don’t come back!” The Count howled into the cold night air.

Vlad shook his head and shuttered the window.

Good riddance.

* * *

“Jonno.”

“No.” Van Helsing’s face fell. “I haven’t asked you to do anything yet.”

Jonno looked up from his breakfast with a raised eyebrow, “Whatever it is, I’m not doing it.” 

“What sort of slayer turns down a challenge?” Van Helsing goaded, squeezing down onto the narrow bench next to Jonno. The caravan was a mess, stakes and clothes strewn everywhere without Mina there to nag and cajole them into tidiness. 

“There are no such things,” Jonno said, standing up just as Van Helsing succeeded in getting his leg past the pile of old newspapers propping up one corner of the table, “as vampire slayers. And, do you know why?” He gave Van Helsing a meaningful look, “Because there are no such things as vampires.”

With that he swung his backpack onto one shoulder and left, slamming the caravan door behind him. Van Helsing pulled a disappointed face and swiped the remaining piece of toast from Jonno’s plate.

He’d just have to put the plan into action himself.

* * *

“Is your Mam about?”

Robin was stood in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear as he tried to look past Vlad into the castle. Vlad scowled and pushed past him, letting the door fall shut, narrowly avoiding hitting Robin in the face.

“She’s gone back to Transylvania.” He scowled harder and kicked at the dirt path, “Back to Barry and  _Patrick_.”

“Aw, what!?” Robin protested, hurrying a few steps to catch up with Vlad. “That’s so unfair!” Vlad smiled up at him gratefully, ready to tell him how much his support meant to him when Robin went on, “That was the only thing getting me through the thought of this,” he gestured at his games kit – symbolising the school’s annual cross country run – in disgust, “knowing I’d get to see your Mam after.”

Dreamy expression plastered across his face he breathed, “She is so hot, Vlad.”

“She’s my Mum, Robin,” Vlad pointed out stroppily. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t really go in for family members.”

Robin shrugged, “Your family’s fitter than mine.” 

Vlad pulled a face and shook his head. After a moment of silent trudging he added, “My dad thinks he’s going to find another girlfriend by tonight. Prove he’s still vampire through and through,” he finished in a mocking tone.

“Is he ‘aving another ball?” Robin grinned, “I’ve got a new shirt I could wear and everything.”

“No!” Vlad heaved a long suffering sigh. “He’s just talking rubbish. Again.” 

“You would tell me if you were ‘aving a party, wouldn’t you?” Robin pressed seriously as they turned the corner. Vlad glanced up and then away quickly, cheeks flushing with colour at being the subject of the intense look on Robin’s face. “Cos how am I going to get with a fit vampiress if I never meet any?”

“You’re not going to get with any vampiress,” Vlad argued, tone adamant. 

“We’ll see, Vlad," Robin struck a pose, oblivious to the amused giggling of the other kids making their way to school, "We’ll see.”

* * *

“And don’t forget to pick up some milk on the way home!” Mrs Branagh called, sighing as the door slammed shut without an answer. She was just watering the plants in the living room when the door bell rang. 

Putting the plastic watering jug down on the coffee table Mrs Branagh made her way through into the hallway, it would be Graham forgetting his keys again no doubt. However when she pulled the door back there was a far different sight awaiting her.

“Oh, Mr. Count,” she smiled up at him even as he hurriedly pushed past her, Renfield struggling with the umbrella he was holding before scurrying behind, “what a lovely surprise!”

* * *

“Come on, Branagh! Put some effort into it!” 

Vlad looked over his shoulder to see Robin huffing and puffing, face flushed and chest heaving. It was only pure luck that kept him from tripping over his own feet in reaction. 

“This is a poor show, lads!” Jenkins barked, glowering at them as they passed the halfway point, breath misting in the cold winter air. “Van Helsing, pick up the pace! Watson, stop talking!”

Once he was out of Jenkins’ immediate firing line Vlad slowed down, waiting for Robin to catch up. Robin was so far behind by this point that he ground to a halt, half sitting against the fence separating the sports field from the back gardens of the houses opposite, hoping there was enough coverage from the nearby trees to stop him getting into trouble.

Robin collapsed down next to him when he finally caught up, sucking in harsh breaths that were doing nothing to help Vlad stop thinking about the fact that Robin was now so close their bare knees were touching.

“We’re not even halfway through yet. Your,” he hooked his fingers in the air, “fit vampires wouldn’t be impressed.”

“’m dying,Vlad,” Robin whined as the last few stragglers made their way past. “Can’t breathe.” He braced his hands on his knees, leaning forward, gasping air in a way that had Vlad worried. Worried enough to put a tentative hand on his back, rubbing carefully although he felt it was more for his own benefit than Robin’s. 

Dark eyes met his quizzically and Vlad swiped at his suddenly dry lips nervously. He was certain Robin could see all sorts of things Vlad didn’t want him to see reflected in his own eyes. Robin swallowed audibly, opening his mouth to say something when a voice cut him off,

“What’s going on here?”

“We, er, that is Robin, um, wasn’t feeling very well, Sir. So we stopped for a bit,” Vlad trailed off.

Van Helsing did not look convinced. 

“You’re on thin ice, Count,” Van Helsing glowered, “and as for you, Branagh, you’re lucky you haven’t been expelled. Don’t think I’ve forgotten who broke into my supply cupboard.” Robin kept his gaze on his scuffed trainers. “Detention, tonight. For the pair of you.”

“But, Sir!” Robin protested, only to fall quiet at the sound of Jenkins calling over as he made his way across the field. 

“Count, Branagh; what a surprise. My office. Now.”

Vlad shrugged apologetically to Robin as they followed dutifully, all the while wishing that Van Helsing had taken just a few minutes longer to find them.

* * *

“What’s for tea?” Robin yelled, throwing his bag down in the hallway and pushing straight through into the kitchen. He hated being stuck in detention. Especially with somebody as sadistic as Van Helsing. If he ever saw another sheet of sandpaper needing organising it would be too soon.

The sight that met him in the kitchen had him frowning in confusion. The twins and his dad were sat around the table looking glum. Chloe was pacing back and fore agitatedly. 

“What’s going on?”

Chloe thrust a piece of paper into his hands, expression grim. His dad pressed a hand tightly over his eyes and Robin’s stomach sunk, fear flooding through him as he unfolded the note with uncooperative fingers.

Anything could have happened.

* * *

“Vladdy? Is that you?”

Vlad rolled his eyes and dropped his satchel down haphazardly, shrugging out of his coat and scarf. He wandered through into the great hall, taken aback to see his father smiling smugly from his throne. He was even more surprised to see the dining table laid with a table cloth and a vase of flowers. 

Something was up.

“About time, maggot brain,” Ingrid sneered at him, checking the baby in her moses basket once more before getting up – all the better to stare down her nose at him, Vlad thought.

“What sort of example does this,” she jabbed a finger at the bright yellow table cloth, “set for the baby!?”

“Er,” Vlad looked up to the Count in hope of an explanation. He ended up getting a demonstration, Mrs. Branagh smiling serenely as she swept across the room from the stairs leading up from the kitchen, the long skirt of her black dress trailing the floor.

“Vladimir,” the Count started, looking supremely pleased with himself, “Meet your new mother.”

“My new what?” Vlad asked in disbelief. The Count waved a hand dismissively, 

“Too long I’ve been a fool for that harpy, when all the time I had the prefect candidate under my nose,” he reached one long fingered hand to Mrs. Branagh’s pale throat and Vlad swallowed. This was so not good. 

“We shall see who is useless now! Ha!” 

The baby started crying and Vlad bit back the urge to groan in despair. His dad still hadn’t gotten over his latest argument with Mr. Branagh. Before he’d even managed to finish the thought there was a hammering at the door, the baby’s cries growing louder still in response. It quickly became clear nobody was else going to move so Vlad went himself. The instant it was open he was shoved unceremoniously out of the way by a stampede of Branaghs.

“Count, I demand you return my wife,” Mr Branagh was saying as Vlad re-entered the room. “I don’t know what you get up to in Transylvania but this is Britain and, and, marriage vows are sacred.” He nodded as if to say, 'so there'. Vlad looked anxiously towards the Count, startled into jumping as his laughter rang around the hall. 

“Peasant, I do as I like.”

“Now see here, Count-“

“No,” the lights flickered at the imperative tone, Mrs. Branagh taking the baby from Ingrid’s arms to help shush her as she cried still harder, “You see here. Your wife has chosen me.” The Count inspected his fingernails, smirk securely in place, “I can’t say I blame her.”

“Why you –“ Paul put a restraining hand on his dad’s shoulder.

“You won’t win, dad.” “Paul!” Chloe hissed.

“Wha?” Ian protested, “It’s true.”

Ignoring the exchange the Count went on, “I vote we allow Elisabeth to speak for herself.” He clapped his hands, “Elisabeth.”

“You can’t tell me you want to be with him,” Mr. Branagh protested. “He’s all,” he grimaced, “slimy and foreign.”

“Graham!” Mrs. Branagh protested, the serene look falling back over her features almost instantly. “I have made my decision and I am very happy.”

Mr. Branagh looked stunned for a long moment before nodding ferociously. Vlad got the uncomfortable impression that the gleam in the man’s eye was not just the reflection of the candlelight and looked away. His gaze fell instead on Robin who had been silent throughout the whole encounter, a frown creasing his brow as he watched the proceedings. 

“What about us?” Ian cut in, “I ‘aven’t had no tea yet.”

“Me neither,” Paul complained. 

“Why not stay here,” the Count grinned toothily, “I could always use a couple of full blooded youths about the place.” The twins high fived and smiled dopily at Ingrid who glared back.

Vlad grimaced at his dad’s terrible choice of words even as his heart hammered in his chest, waiting for Robin to speak. He’d want to stay for sure. They could share a room. He really shouldn’t be so happy about it - but he couldn’t help it. 

“Fine, let’s go,” Chloe said tightly, one hand on her father’s arm as she glowered at Vlad. “Robin? Come on.”

Robin visibly hesitated, looking around longingly, gaze coming to rest on Ingrid.

“Robin,” Chloe ground out through gritted teeth, “I’ll do it if I have to.”

“Alright, fine, I’m coming,” Robin snapped, coat flaring out behind him as he stormed after Chloe and Mr. Branagh. Vlad watched them go, emotion warring in his chest, wincing as the door slammed shut.

“Excellent,” the Count rubbed his hands together, eyeing the twins up in glee. “Now which one of you two knows how to sharpen blades?”

Vlad sank down into the nearest chair and put his head in his hands. This was the worst day ever.

* * *

“It’s not what your Mam would have made.” Robin looked down into the slop on his plate and nodded in silent agreement.

“It’s lovely,” Chloe lied, grimacing as she swallowed a mouthful. “Thanks dad.”

Mr. Branagh nodded wanly, expression tight as he left the room. As soon as he was gone Robin dropped his cutlery with a clatter.

“This is disgusting. I could be staying at the castle right now.” He scowled at his sister, “With _Vlad_.”

“Don’t be so selfish,” Chloe retorted, putting her own cutlery down all the same. “Dad’s really upset.” Robin slid further down into his seat, sulking, and Chloe narrowed her eyes. “I shouldn’t have to threaten to help Jonno for you to make the right decision.”

Robin just scowled and got to his feet, “I’m going to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	133. Robin / Vlad - Love Bites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt - Robin wants Vlad to bite him in the vampire-way (he keeps nagging Vlad about it) and Vlad is feeling mischievous so he'll give Robin what he wants, though not exactly. 
> 
> Originally written and posted in 2009.

“What is that?”

“What?” Robin squirmed away as Chloe leaned closer, “Geroff me!”

“It’s a hickey!”

Robin felt a flush spreading across his face.

“Mum! Robin’s got a hickey!”

“I have not!” Robin glared at her and hissed, “it’s a vampire bite. Vlad did it.” He broke into a grin, “Awesome, huh?”

Mrs. Branagh appeared in the doorway before Chloe could reply.

“What’s that Chloe? I’m in the middle of a soufflé.”

“Robin has a hickey. Why can’t I have a boyfriend?”

“Robin.” His mother’s tone was scolding. “You’re far too young for that sort of thing.”

“Mam, I’m fifteen.” He shook his head, “I don’t know why I’m even arguing. It’s not a hickey.”

“No, he thinks it’s a vampire bite.” Chloe folded her arms and scowled nastily at him. Robin resisted the urge to thump her.

“Oh Robin! Is that all you ever think of!?” Mrs. Branagh shook her head in obvious exasperation and turned to leave. “And Robin,” he looked up at her, “try and set a better example for your sister.”

“It is a vampire bite!” Robin protested as soon as their mother was back in the kitchen, sounding just the right side of doubtful.

Chloe peered at the mark for a moment in consideration.

“Where are the puncture marks then?” Arching an eyebrow she continued, “You and Vlad should really try and get out more.”

And with that Chloe flounced from the room, satisfaction written all over her face, leaving Robin to examine the livid bruise in the mirror over the fireplace.

* * *

“Robin?” Vlad stepped back a little; Robin looked angry. Really angry.

“You said you were going to give me a vampire bite.”

“I did!” Vlad thought, soothing his over-active conscience, that it was only a half lie. He hadsaid it.

“Then why is Chloe saying that this,” Robin wrenched at the collar of his T-shirt, exposing the purpling mark on his neck, “is a lovebite!?”

“She, er, is really jealous?” Vlad held his hands out in what he hoped was a pacifying gesture. He really did not want to be having this conversation with Robin.

“I think,” Robin took a step closer, backing Vlad up against his bedroom wall, “that you lied about this being a half bite. I think,” Robin was in his face now and Vlad thought – with just a hint of hysteria – that if he were to move his head slightly they would be kissing, “that you did it because you fancy me.”

“As if!”

Robin’s eyes were glittering dangerously and Vlad swallowed. He didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t upset Robin more. What to say that wouldn’t give everything away.

“I just,” he looked away awkwardly, “thought it would be funny. You know, a joke.”

Robin narrowed his eyes and scowled harder. “A joke!? Well,” Vlad shrunk back, for a moment convinced that Robin was about to hit him. “I don’t think it’s very funny.” Robin took in the way Vlad had pressed himself against the wall and stepped back, moving over to the door.

He stopped at the threshold, his gaze searching for something – what, Vlad couldn’t say. Whatever it was Vlad didn’t think he found it because he snarled angrily, “It’s not catching Vlad!” (At least that’s what it sounded like) before stomping down the narrow staircase.

Vlad hit his head back against the wall in frustration. Why had he been so stupid? Robin had been joking about, telling him he should practice his bite on him. He had known it was a badidea, even as his mind had formulated the lie. But, no, as usual, he’d ploughed straight into it. Told Robin about the ‘half-bite’; told him that he could drain energy without actually turning him.

Robin had believed him. Had grinned at him trustingly as Vlad leant in close and trailed his fingers across Robin’s pulse point. Vlad shivered at the memory of Robin’s arched neck, the smell of his aftershave. The taste of his pale skin. Robin was right; he had only done it because he fancied him. Had fancied him for months and months. Vlad slid down the wall to sit on the floor. And in all that time Robin had never once given any indication that he might feel the same way.

“Aw,” he swiped angrily at his eyes before looking up to see Ingrid stood in the open doorway, “lover’s tiff?” Her laughter rang in his head for the rest of the night.

* * *

“Robin?” Mrs. Branaugh knocked softly on his bedroom door.

Robin ignored it and carried on flicking through his new copy of Bite Me. It had been just over a week now since his argument with Vlad. A week of nothing but his own company all day and his family all night. A week of feeling lonely and useless, watching Vlad from a distance as he laughed and joked with his other friends. A week of kicking himself for being such a complete and utter idiot.

He had liked Vlad for so long now it felt like he’d never been anything other than lovesick in his presence. So when Vlad had taken him up on his jokey offer, told him about the half-bite, he had offered his neck up willingly. The thought of having Vlad’s lips pressed up against any part of him far outweighing the many compelling reasons why he shouldn’t do it.

He clenched his eyes shut. When Chloe had said it was a hickey he’d been stupid enough to hope that maybe, just maybe, it meant that Vlad liked him too. That hope had soon given way to anger. Vlad had been mocking him. Using his pathetic crush as a way of humiliating him. Vlad had even told him to his face; it had been nothing but a joke to him. He was nothing but a joke to Vlad. The way Vlad had strained away from him, like he had some sort of infectious disease, was just proof of how little the other boy actually wanted to be close to him. 

“Robin!” There was another knock, louder this time. Realising his mum wasn’t going to go away, Robin flung the magazine to the floor and called for her to come in.

Mrs. Branagh opened the door, balancing a tray with a mug of tea and some biscuits in one hand. She shut the door behind her and sat on the edge of his bed, forcing him to squirm closer to the headboard to make space.

“I hear you’ve had a little falling out with Vlad.”

Robin scowled as he took the tea. “Who told you that?”

Mrs. Branagh looked unperturbed. “I was up at the castle earlier to check on Ingrid.”  Ingrid, Robin thought sourly, could take care of herself. Before she’d found out that she was having Will’s baby she’d managed to bring the Vampire world to the brink of civil war.  “Vlad looked so miserable Robin.”  Robin kept his gaze on his mug. It wasn’t his fault. 

“Robin,” Mrs. Branagh started cautiously, “when I said you were too young for that sort of thing, you did know what I meant, didn’t you?”

Robin looked at her in confusion. When had she said that? How could he be too young to argue with Vlad?

He stopped trying to work it out and shook his head, “Not really.”

Mrs. Branagh sighed and patted his knee. Robin wondered morbidly if Dr. Evans had sent those test results back and he was dying or something. There was definitely something up. He glanced at the tray; ginger snaps. His favourites. He looked at his mother suspiciously.

“I only meant that you should be careful. There’s plenty of time for that. Look at poor Ingrid.” Robin grimaced in dawning realisation; she was going to give him the talk. Mrs. Branagh continued obliviously. “But I would never tell you to break things off with Vlad.”

Robin gaped at her in shock for a moment. He hadn’t seen that coming. “We never – we aren’t – I didn’t break up with him!”

“Oh, Robin I’m so sorry.” Before he could protest he was being crushed into a hug. “I’m sure he’ll realise what a mistake he’s making. And if he doesn't, he doesn't deserve you.”

Robin just concentrated on trying to extract himself from her grip.

* * *

“Will you stop that! You’re getting on my nerves!”

Vlad looked up to see his sister’s irate face. She was lighting the candles around her Will shrine. He thought it was slightly creepy, it felt like everywhere he went Will’s presence was lingering. He supposed at least she wasn’t crying, or rounding up vampire freedom fighters from Moldova again.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes,” Ingrid slammed her palms down on the table opposite him, leaning over to glare into his face, “you are! You keep sighing and gazing out of that window like some lovesick puppy. It’spathetic.”

Vlad glanced over at the shrine but wisely didn’t comment.

“’Will you tell him I’m sorry Mrs. Branagh.’” Ingrid raised her voice a few octaves as she mimicked his earlier words. “If you love him that much why don’t you just go and tell him yourself and get. Out. Of. My. Way!”

“He doesn’t even like me!” Vlad shot back angrily, feeling a hot blush working its way down his neck and up to the tips of his ears. Ingrid always knew just how to annoy him. She was, if it was possible, even worse now that she was pregnant. She could snap from murderous rage to howling grief in seconds.

“I didn’t see him complaining the other night when you were slobbering all over his neck.”

“Ingrid!” Vlad hissed and jerked his head towards the crypt. “Dad might hear!”

“And?” Ingrid dropped into an empty chair and smiled nastily. “Nothing will make me happier than seeing his face when he realises you won’t be carrying on the Dracula name.”

“Yeah, well, not just yet. I would like to actually live to see my sixteenth birthday.”

“Argh!” Ingrid clutched at the table suddenly, her face contorted in a grimace.

“Don’t sound so shocked!”

“No, you spineless little toad! It’s the baby!” Ingrid gritted her teeth, her face even paler than usual. Vlad panicked. 

"What should I do?"

Ingrid gave him a particularly vicious scowl before grinding out, “Get Mrs. Branagh!”

* * *

“So, Mr. Count, a granddad already.”

Mr. Branagh bounced slightly on the balls of his feet, hands in the pockets of his dressing gown, his expression one of unadulterated glee. Ian and Paul shared a look that Robin interpreted as relief that his dad hadn’t found out about any of their near misses.

“And I suppose that you supervise the every action of your multiple and rather, unfortunate,offspring.” The Count said haughtily. Mr. Branagh narrowed his eyes.

A scream from the curtained bed reverberated around the room, causing the Count to press his fingers to his forehead in apparent pain. Chloe’s eyes were as wide as saucers. Robin guessed that this would be more effective than any of his parents’ attempts at keeping things between her and Jonno on a strictly platonic footing.

“Still,” Kurt chose that moment to pipe up; he had been living in the Branaghs' dining room for months now - and was still showing no sign of moving on. He had even become leader of the local Explorer Scout troop, much to Mr. Branagh's unbridled delight. “It must be nice to know one of them is going to carry on the family line.”

“Oh look at this,” Robin rustled the newspaper loudly, trying to divert the Count’s attention, “they’re going ahead with that bypass.” 

The Count was having none of it, motioning one pale hand for him to shut up. “What," He moved so that he was looming over Kurt threateningly, "are you drivelling about now?”

Kurt shrank back a little at the look on the Count’s face. “I just meant that, seeing as Vlad and Robin are, you know – “

“Are what?” The Count took in Vlad’s open mouthed shock and Robin’s flushed embarrassment, his frown darkening as he made the intended link.

“Vlad!”  Robin wished the ground would just open up and swallow him whole, Vlad would definitely never speak to him again now.  “This had better be some sort of joke. You and that, that - ” The Count motioned at Robin in disgust, ”peasant!”

“That’s my son you’re talking about!” Mr. Branagh waved a finger in the Count’s face. “I’m sorry, but it has to be said. If anything, Robin is too good for that troublemaker.” He gestured widely in Vlad’s general direction.

“Vladimir is my son and heir. He’s going to be marrying Transylvanian nobility. Not cavorting with the spawn of the village idiot.”

Mr. Branagh pulled himself up to his full height. “So you’ve been masterminding this split between them. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”

They were nose to nose now. Ian and Paul, Robin could hear, were making bets on who would come out victorious. Robin risked a glance at Vlad - who looked absolutely horrified - and wondered if it was possible to literally die of embarrassment. His dad was fighting for his right to date someone who, if pushed, would probably sooner gouge out his own eyeballs with Renfield's back scratcher than go out with him.

Just as things were about to degenerate into violence, Mrs. Branagh emerged, hair everywhere and beaming brightly. “It’s a girl.”

* * *

“Shhh.” Ingrid was cooing quietly to the baby in her arms, a soft smile playing about her lips.

Vlad didn’t think he’d ever seen her smile like that before. As if she was actually happy, not just envisioning the pain and suffering of everyone she hated. It was creeping him out even more than the awful painting of Will, framed with swathes of black mourning crepe, hanging above the fireplace.

He glanced over at his father; he was sat on his throne, head cradled in his hands. Had been sat there, silent, for the better part of an hour. Ever since he’d ushered the Branaughs out of the door – Robin hadn’t even spared him a backwards glance – and told Vlad to get out of his sight.

“It’s all my fault.” He moaned suddenly, breaking the tense silence. “I should never have let you buy that pink shirt.” The Count glanced in his direction then turned away, as if the very sight of him was distasteful. “What am I supposed to tell your mother?”

Vlad twisted his hands in his lap. This whole thing wouldn’t be so bad, he thought, if he actually had any chance of being with Robin at the end of it. The look of utter horror on Robin’s face when Mr. Branaugh had misread their relationship had told him that there was no chance of it happening any time soon.

“Tell her to go stake herself?” Ingrid answered coldly in Vlad’s stead, her chair scraping loudly as she stood to place the baby in her Moses basket.

“Whilst that does have a certain,” the Count paused, “attraction, I hardly think it will placate the High Council.” He swept across the room until he was behind Vlad’s chair. “I’m just so very disappointed in you Vlad.”

“Will you get over yourself!” Ingrid turned to face the Count, her hands on her hips. “They’re not even together. I lied to Mrs. Branaugh to force him,” she pointed viciously at Vlad, “to do something about it. Breather Boy hasn’t got the guts and Vlad has always been a total wimpire.”

“Ingrid! Language!” The Count stalked closer to her. “That’s the Grand High Vampire you’re talking about.”

“He’s not even a proper vampire yet! Not that it’ll make any difference.” She smirked at both men, “Face it, Vlad couldn’t hypnotise someone into liking him.”

“The boy is a Dracula! Look at him,” They both looked at Vlad who was picking at his shirt cuff nervously, “he exudes animal magnetism.”

Both Vlad and Ingrid stared at him incredulously.

“In fact,” The Count continued, laying a hand on Vlad’s shoulder and sneering nastily at Ingrid, “We’ll have a party. Tomorrow. Celebrate Vlad’s betrothal properly.”

“You never threw a party for me and Will!” Ingrid yelled, completely drowning out Vlad’s protests about his not actually being betrothed.

She looked at Vlad, taking in his pale, anxious face and sighed. “Whatever. It’s almost dawn; I’m putting Myra to bed.”

The Count smirked in victory and disappeared down into the crypt, muttering about invitations and table decorations.

“What did you do that for?” Vlad hissed angrily. “He’ll invite the entire Council and everyone will see what a loser I am!”

Ingrid stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Vlad, it pains me to have to help you, but, stop being such an idiot! Branaugh’s mad about you.” She looked him up and down derisively, “God only knows why. But,” she shifted the weight of the basket, exhaustion written across her face, forcibly reminding Vlad of the fact that she’d only given birth hours before, “just trust me.”

Vlad hesitated for just a moment before pulling her into a quick, awkward hug. When he stepped back he could have sworn there were tears in her eyes. She blinked, and the vulnerability was gone. “Now leave me alone before I change my mind and use his blood to paint a mural on the nursery wall!”

Vlad just grinned and went to make himself look presentable.

* * *

“That’s it Robin! Well done!”

Robin collapsed onto the wet muddy grass, his lungs burning with the effort to draw breath. Why had he let Kurt talk him into going on a ‘fighting fit’ day with his Scout troop? Agree to spend his Saturday morning running in the cold winter air? A broken heart couldn’t account for it - he must be losing his mind.

He rolled over and tried to get his arms to cooperate and give him the leverage he needed to get up. It wasn’t happening. He settled for just lying there; sweat trickling down his face, his breathing still harsh and irregular. 

This was all Vlad’s fault. Vlad and his stupid jokes.

“Great race Scouts!” Kurt clapped his hands together and started jogging on the spot. “Now who’s up for a game of rounders?”

Robin felt like crying.

* * *

“He’s not here?”

“That’s what I just said.” Chloe folded her arms and scowled at him. Vlad swore that she got more like Ingrid every day. Maybe it was a girl thing rather than a Vampire thing.

“Well, where is he?” Vlad wished he didn’t sound so panicked. He needed to find Robin, tell him he loved him, and ask him to marry him. And all before his mother and Patrick turned up on their doorstep with the entirety of the Inner Chamber and the gossip columnist from The Transylvania Times in tow.

“He’s at Kurt’s ‘Fighting Fit’ day. We thought it might cheer him up.” Mrs. Branagh said, emerging from the kitchen. Chloe snorted in obvious amusement and disappeared back upstairs.

Vlad squirmed uncomfortably; Mrs. Branagh’s usual open smile had more than a hint of steel to it. He had no idea why everyone thought it was him who’d broken up with Robin. If he ever got to be with Robin he would never give him up.

He just hoped Ingrid was right and he wasn’t about to make the biggest fool of himself. She hadn’t tried to stake him in his sleep for almost three months now; that had to mean she wasn’t lying about it. Had to.

Vlad was about to leave when a horrid smell assaulted him. He turned to see Renfield making his way up the Branagh’s driveway, just as Mrs. Branagh called out, “Good morning Mr. Renfield!” 

“Morning. The master asked me to deliver this.”

He handed her a cream envelope, edged with black. Mrs. Branagh opened it, ‘ooh’-ing at Vlad in a way that said ‘what could this be?’ Vlad wished he didn’t already know. 

“A party tonight? For you and Robin? Oh, Vlad, how lovely!”

Suddenly he was being crushed into a hug by Mrs. Branagh, which might not have been sobad had Renfield not decided to join in too… 

* * *

“Graham, have you got that basket for Ingrid?” Mr. Branagh grunted and hauled a basket full of soft toys and jars full of, what it looked like to Robin, baby sick from the kitchen. Robin didn’t think Ingrid would be overly impressed. He’d bought the baby a dummy that looked like a mouthful of fangs from the front – he was sure it would go down much better than pink bunnies and a copy of ‘The Very Hungry Caterpillar’.

“This is so unfair. I wanted to see Jonno tonight!” Chloe glared at Robin as she shoved past him.

Robin scowled and – carefully – manoeuvred into his coat. He still felt like he’d been trampled by a herd of elephants.

“Chloe! Your brother needs your support.” Mrs. Branagh ushered them all out of the front door. “You can see Jonathan any time.”

It was nice of his mum to be so concerned, Robin thought. She’d been fussing around him ever since him and Kurt and got back from ‘fit’ camp; ironing his favourite shirt and shining his shoes. And, it wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate it – he wanted Vlad to see he could look well turned out, even if it wasn’t for the same reason his mother had in mind. But, really, it wasn’t like he needed Chloe around to get through a baby shower. He’d just smile politely at Vlad, show him that he was mature and didn’t feel like Vlad had ripped his heart out through his ribcage, and then quietly read the paper or something until they could leave.

He’d survive. 

Wincing at the way his legs ached he amended that thought. He’d survive – if he ever got there in the first place.

* * *

“Where is he?” The Count hissed at Vlad, trying not to let anyone overhear. 

Vlad shook his head. He wished he knew. He had rang Robin’s mobile phone until he looked desperate. Had knocked for him seven separate times – only to be told that Robin was still out with Kurt. Vlad couldn’t understand it. Robin always said he’d sooner feed his own hand to his next door neighbour’s rottweiler than do anything scout related.

He glared over at Ingrid. This was all her fault. She didn’t even notice, too busy telling a journalist from Good Castlekeeping how she’d debated for months between the names ‘Myra’ and ‘Margaret’, finally settling on the former because no matter how much suffering Thatcher had caused, she had never, to the best of her knowledge, personally murdered anyone. 

The Count nudged him harshly with his elbow and Vlad looked up to see Patrick leaving his mother’s side – barely recognisable under a heavy black veil - and striding towards them, pushing through a small group of Council Ministers from the F.Right party (currently campaigning under the slogan ‘Vote Far Right for your Children’s Right to Kill’), much to their obvious disgust. His dad plastered a false smile on his face and Vlad made an attempt to at least look mildly pleased to see him. He had a feeling it failed.

“So, a double celebration.” Patrick gestured at the pitiful banners Renfield had made: ‘Congratulations Vladimiir and Robin.’ And it’s hastily erected twin: ‘Congrattulations Ingrid and baby Mira.’ “And neither of them 18 yet. You must be so proud.”

The Count glared at Patrick, all attempts at civility forgotten. “Tell me, how is your mongrel these days? Still regurgitating fur balls? Or has he advanced to chewing the furniture?” Patrick glowered. “Now,” the Count waved a hand in dismissal, “if you’ll excuse me.”

Vlad coughed to hide his laughter. Then he turned to see where his father had gone and choked, coughing in earnest.

* * *

Robin looked around the room in shock, there were people everywhere. When his mum had said there was going to be a party he had expected it to be them and Vlad’s family, possibly, at a push, Vlad’s mum. Though he wouldn’t have counted on it. Ingrid had chained her to a sun-bed and left her to die less than six months ago. From what he’d heard the burns still hadn’t healed.

The Count approached and clasped him by the shoulders, startling Robin. “Finally, the guest of honour.” 

Every one turned to stare at him.

Robin looked round helplessly. His parents were smiling encouragingly at him, Chloe huffily pretending that she wasn’t the slightest bit interested. He looked over at Vlad who was nervously scuffing the tow of his shoe against the flagstone floor. This was weird.

The Count clapped his hands – accompanying it with a theatrical crack of thunder – and spoke, “Now we can begin.”

* * *

The band began to play some sombre number that sounded more like a funeral march than a celebration to Vlad’s ears. Reluctantly he crossed the room and stood in front of Robin, hyper aware of the intense scrutiny of the vampires he was soon to be in charge of.

He wished Robin would stop gawping at him in shock as he bowed deeply and took Robin’s unresisting hands in his own. Vlad hoped that Robin would just go along with him – he could explain everything to him after. They just had to get through one dance. 

“Step back!” Vlad hissed as he trod on Robin’s foot. It was going to be more difficult than he’d first thought.

“What’s going on?” Robin hissed back, wincing as Vlad inadvertently stepped on his other foot.

Vlad spun them both round forcibly; he’d planned to have spent the afternoon practicing the courtship dance with Robin. It was an important part of a betrothal and he’d wanted it to be step-perfect, a sign they would be compatible in everything else they did. Always assuming, of course, that Robin wouldn’t have just laughed in his face when he suggested it.

Robin lost his footing, almost sending them both sprawling to the ground. Vlad cursed Baden-Powell’s existence.

* * *

Robin was relieved beyond measure to see other couples joining the dance. He’d never been very good at dancing, not least under the watchful gaze of a room full of blood thirsty vampireand his parents, when his limbs felt like they were about to give up and seize up entirely, and – and whilst holding hands with Vlad.

He shuffled awkwardly, following Vlad’s lead and wondered if the Count was planning to serve him up as a main course again. It was the usual goal of such elaborate schemes. 

“Vlad, will you just tell me what’s 'appening!?”

“It’s tradition.” They spun again before Vlad continued. “To prove we move in sync.” They swapped partners for two steps then rejoined hands, following the flow of the music. Vlad took the opportunity to step in closer and say quietly, “Symbolic of the way our souls will be in sync in marriage.”

Robin stopped suddenly, causing the couple closest to them to spin straight into him. Robin landed on the floor, looking up at Vlad in disbelief. Above him was a banner reading ‘Congratulations Vladimiir and Robin’. Robin gaped for a long moment before managing to stutter out,

“What!?”

* * *

“My sentiments exactly.” The words rang out across the silent hall as one of the F.Right Ministers moved over to Robin, hauling him up roughly from the floor by his shirt. “What has become of our great race? When you can stand by and allow this abomination to continue under your very noses? When you allow him,” he pointed at Vlad, “to make a mockery of everything we have worked so hard for?”

Vlad clenched his fists at his sides, unfamiliar anger coursing through him. He had already fought this battle: he was Grand High Vampire and there was nothing anyone – not himself, not Ingrid, and most certainly not the outdated bigots of the F.Right party – could do about it.

Minister Tschetter continued, his long fingernails clenching painfully into Robin’s shoulders. “Not only does he want us to accommodate them, to let our children grow hungry so they might prosper. He would sink so low as to bring shame on our exalted ancestors by entering into a union with one of them.”

Vlad heard Mrs. Branaugh draw in a shocked breath and was relieved she’d misunderstood Tschetter’s stress on the word. 

“A union,” Tschetter looked around the room sombrely, “in which he is not even dominant!”

There were murmurs of agreement amongst the crowd, some of the more aged guests nodding their approval of Minister Tschetter’s words. Chloe stamped on Paul’s foot when he began to nod along, glaring at her brother.

“What have you to say for yourself, Dracula?”

“Well,” the Count shrugged, “I admit he was not my first choice,” he glanced over at Mr. Branaugh, pulling a face, “but – “

“Silence!” Tschetter snarled. Lightening cracked across the night sky and Robin’s face paled as his grip grew tighter. “I was not asking you.”

Vlad inhaled deeply, struggling to reign in the overwhelming urge to go for Tschetter’s throat. Instead he glowered at the man, pausing to sweep his gaze across the assembled vampires, more than one lowered their heads at its intensity.

“You dare to question me?” His voice was a low growl and he tried not to bask in the look of unguarded admiration on Robin’s face. “Have you forgotten what happened to Istok?”

Minister Istok had been leader of the F.Right party. Just after Ingrid had returned home to Stokely an emergency meeting had been arranged to discuss how best to control the forces she’d raised in Eastern Europe. Istok had made the fatal mistake of insulting Ingrid, calling her fat. She had staked him with a Council issue letter opener.

Vlad had grappled with her for it, asking how she could be so inconsiderate as to ruin his chances of finally getting the F.Right faction on side. Just as he’d wrestled it free from her grip Tschetter and Andrei, Vlad’s new chief advisor, had burst in to see what the commotion was, only to find Istok dust and Vlad apparently threatening his own sister with the same fate.

The wildly exaggerated reports of his violence in the morning papers had been the turning point in his gaining the support of the general vampire populace. 

“And if you don’t let go of him right now I’ll do the same to you!”

The room was full of excited twittering; perhaps the boy would not be such a useless leader after all. Tschetter hesitated for a long moment before releasing Robin, pushing him violently so he sprawled at Vlad’s feet.

“You’ve not heard the last of this!” The candles flickered and sputtered out. By the time Renfield had rushed forward to relight them, Tschetter was gone.

* * *

“Well done, Vlad!” The Count clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder. Vlad shrugged modestly.  

“I can’t believe you’re still taking the credit for that.” Ingrid crossed her arms huffily. “Like you would have had the guts to stake a Minister. Still,” she relented slightly, smirking, “I can’t see old Tschetter trying his luck again any time soon.”  

Robin watched the exchange with growing frustration. He was the one who had just been threatened by a madman. He looked around the hall; the band had started up again and the guests were talking animatedly amongst themselves, all but totally ignoring him. Chloe was engrossed in her mobile phone – no doubt texting Jonno - Ian and Paul had used the distraction to push their way to the front of the queue for the buffet. His parents were busy fussing over Vlad.  

Typical, he thought bitterly.  

“Don’t ‘elp me up then.” Robin pulled himself to his feet, wincing slightly as his leg muscles protested.  

Vlad rushed forward to help him then and Robin noted with satisfaction the look of guilt on his mother’s face.  

“Sorry,” Vlad tried to brush some of the dirt off his shirt, succeeding only in making it worse, “are you alright?”  

“What do you think!?”  

Their families tactfully withdrew to sit with Kurt, who was busy telling some disinterested junior member of the Inner Chamber about the novel he was working on, based on his dictaphone notes: a vampire slaying, self-defence teaching, scout leader who finds love with a librarian in a strange town.  

“I did try and tell you.” Vlad whined as soon as they were alone.  

“What? That you were planning on ‘umiliating me some more?”  

“No!” An aged couple glanced over at them and muttered indulgently about young love and the glory days of vicious fighting. Vlad continued, voice hushed, “about this party. And-“ he suddenly seemed to find his shoes very interesting, “that I like you.”  

“Right, and tomorrow you’ll be telling me it was just another joke. I’m not stupid Vlad!”  

“I had to say that, you were going to hit me!”  

“I was not!”  

Vlad winced and glanced around them, they were starting to attract attention in earnest now. “Look, why don’t we go upstairs and I can explain. Please?”  

Robin scowled and deliberated for a long moment before, finally, nodding and letting Vlad lead the way.  

* * *

Robin watched as Vlad snatched up piles of clothes from the bed and dumped them to the floor. It looked like Vlad had tried on every piece of clothing he owned which didn’t make any sense because the shirt Vlad was wearing, whilst one he always told Vlad was ‘cool’ (a safe way of saying ‘it makes me want to pin you down and never let you back up’), was one he knew Vlad hated. Just as Vlad finished making enough space for them to sit Robin realised that Vlad must be wearing it for him. Suddenly he felt a lot less hard done by.  

Vlad bit his lip and motioned for him to sit down. “This,” Vlad waved a hand, “party, it’s not like binding or anything. They won’t make you marry me if you don’t want to.” Vlad wrung his hands in his lap and kept his gaze on the floor.  

“Would they make you bite me if we got married?”  

“No!” Vlad looked up at him in horror. Robin sighed; it had been worth a try. Vlad wrung his hands more insistently. “You were right. I lied about that stupid bite. I – I just wanted to kiss you. If you don’t feel the same way,” Vlad continued, grimacing miserably for a moment, “It’s alright. I’ll understand.”  

Robin took a deep breath, and shifted closer. If kissing was what Vlad wanted, then kissing was what Vlad was going to get…

* * *

“I’m a master of the chess board!” The Count flashed a smile at the girl; smirking inwardly at the knowledge Magda was watching him. Ah, revenge: a dish best served cold. Flicking his hair he continued, “Vlad will tell you. Vlad?,” he called. “Vlad!?” The Count scanned the room; there was no sign of the boy.  

“VLADIMIR!”

* * *

Vlad clutched Robin closer, gasping into the other boy’s mouth as warm hands worked their way under the monstrosity of a shirt he was wearing. Robin’s response was to push him back against the mattress.  

“Robin.” Vlad groaned.  

“Vlad!”  

Vlad opened his eyes – that was not Robin’s voice - to see his dad towering above them. He didn’t look happy.  

Robin cursed and pushed away from him like he’d been scalded. Vlad blushed and pushed his shirt back down.  

“I didn’t go to the trouble of throwing a party for you to spend it up here,” The Count growled, “get back downstairs.” He glared at Robin, “Now!”  

Robin exchanged an anxious glance with Vlad before doing as he was told. The Count waited until Robin was through the door before motioning it shut with a flick of his wrist. He dropped down on the bed next to Vlad, putting an arm around his shoulder.  

“Vlad, I’m impressed. I thought it would take you months to get that far.”  

“Dad!” Vlad pulled a face.  

The Count smiled at him, “My little Vladdy, all grown up.” He stood up. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you all the tricks. He won’t go looking elsewhere.” With that, The Count disappeared back to the hall. Vlad shuddered. That was one vampire lesson he would not be attending.

* * *

“I’m still not marrying you, you know.” Robin said, chin in his hand as he stared at Vlad over a plate full of cake. “It’s for girls.”  

Vlad kissed his cheek. “You’ll change your mind one day.”  

Robin glanced across the hall to where his parents were dancing the twist – out of sync – and scowled. “I wouldn’t count on it.”  

Grinning, Vlad stole a forkful of cake. “Not even if it meant I’d just haveto bite you so we could be together forever and ever and ever?”  

Robin frowned for a moment, as if considering something.  

“Would we get a double coffin?”  

“Yeah, I don’t see why not.”  

“Alright,” Robin took the fork back off of him, “I’ll think about it.”  

Vlad sat back in his chair, taking in the mayhem around him as Robin ate his cake. Chloe had her phone pressed tight to her ear, stood on a chair in the hope of getting a better signal. Next to her Mr. and Mrs. Branagh had moved on to disco, Kurt still attempting to impress the minister with his rendition of Kung Fu Fighting. Across the room his own dad was busy chatting up a girl younger than Ingrid, stealing glances at Magda roughly every thirty seconds.

Meanwhile Ingrid was busy yelling directions at Ian and Paul, she’d decided that Myra would benefit from having the Will shrine reassembled next to her crib. Myra herself was sleeping peacefully in her Moses basket on the chair next to him. Her little face was screwed up in a scowl; she looked, to Vlad’s mind at least, just like a mini Ingrid.  

Vlad’s gaze settled back on Robin and he smiled. There might be nothing normal about his life but, for the first time, he didn’t want to change a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	134. Robin character essay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this for a character meta community on LJ back in 2009. I've included all the links that were still live, but some are gone for good!

Robin Branagh (Young Dracula)

 **Title:**  Life Without Me So Isn't Worth Living

 **Author:**  ssquirrel_fic 

 **Fandom:**  Young Dracula [show overview [**HERE**](http://smallfandomfest.livejournal.com/178651.html)]

 **Character:**  Robin Branagh

 **Spoilers:** For both series.     

_“Aw, I love these games. It’s, like, if you had to, who would you kiss? A ferret, or your nan?”_

\- Robin; S01:EP09. And Robin wonders why all the other kids call him a freak...

* * *

**CONTEXT**

Young Dracula is a show about, you guessed it, a young Dracula. The infamous Count, following a 'misunderstanding' with the local peasantry, relocates to suburban Britain with his children Vlad and Ingrid. Ingrid, a model vampire, hates the fact that her father ignores her because she is a girl and threatens to go and live with her mother, Magda, and her new werewolf lover, Patrick. Vlad, on the other hand, is desperate to be normal and can't wait to get involved in 'breather' life.

_Ingrid, the Count, Vlad, and Renfield._

Ingrid, the Count, Vlad and Renfield. He doesn't have to wait long: about half hour after arriving in Stokely Robin scales the walls of their new castle to introduce himself. They quickly become best friends and the show follows Vlad's quest to stay human... and Robin's attempts to become a vampire.

**Useful Links:**

  * Fansite. [Dead Link]
  * [**young_dracula**](http://young-dracula.livejournal.com/)  - the general livejournal community.
  * **[Wikipedia entry](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Young_Dracula)**.



* * *

**CHARACTER**

Vlad is the 'Chosen One', the vampire destined to lead the race into a new age. Robin, in contrast, is 'a weirdo goth child' destined to 'live on the streets, begging people for money'. In a nutshell, Robin is the comedy sidekick; he cracks the one liners whilst being the subject of everyone else's jokes. But, scratch the surface, and there is more to him than meets the eye.

_Elisabeth, Ian, Chloe, Paul, Robin and Graham Branagh._

Robin is the middle child of Elisabeth and Graham Branagh. His mother is a housewife. His dad runs his own small plumbing firm, leading the local scout troop in his spare time. His two elder brothers, twins Ian and Paul, are sports mad, playing on the school rugby and football teams. His younger sister Chloe is a child prodigy, able to translate Egyptian hieroglyphics at the age of 12, with a keen interest in feminism (and a bit of a crush on Vlad). The Branaghs enjoy hiking, camping, singing, bright colours, and getting along with everyone.

At least, most of them do.  

Robin is most definitely the black sheep of the family. Whilst the rest of the house is decorated in eye watering shades of green and orange, Robin's bedroom is black, purple and, well, black. He dresses like a goth and hates outdoor pursuits lest they ruin his pale complexion. His parents worry constantly about his 'morbid obsession with vampires' and, in series one, threaten to send him away to 'Happy Camp' if he doesn't start trying to integrate with the other children at school.

_"Robin is certainly a very creative child, and has written some very interesting essays. ... Yes, there's 'Why I Love Vampires', 'My Best Friend's A Vampire', 'Why I Want To Be A Vampire', 'Harry Vampire and the Goblet of Bats' ... Although, I have to say, when Robin is talking about vampires at least he's paying attention. In some classes it's as if he's not even there."_

~ Mrs. Harker, Robin's headteacher, complaining to Mr. and Mrs. Branagh at parent's evening.

Before Vlad arrived in Stokely you get the impression that Robin was a total loner. He had no other friends, his brothers refused to associate with him for being a 'freak', and at school he was forced to spend his breaks with his little sister. Aged 11 he called out the emergency services to deal with an alleged UFO sighting, and at 12 dissected a frog in the middle of a maths lesson. He wears a vampire cape to school and at chess club, one of the few attempts he makes to join in, plays against the computer. His inexperience when it comes to social interaction is painfully obvious. It's not that he doesn't care about other people's feelings, he's just completely oblivious to them. He t

hinks that being a vampire would be the most 'awesome' thing ever and cannot understand why anyone might disagree. For example when Vlad gets upset in S01:EP05 stating: "I'm going to grow up to be a vampire and there's nothing I can do about it. I'm gonna watch all my friends grow old and die, but I'll still be here. Flapping around in this gloomy old castle." Robin's response is an incredulous: " _You make it sound so negative._ "

* * *

**DEVELOPMENT**

When we first encounter Robin his selfishness seems to know no bounds. In S01:EP04 Ingrid tricks the Count into believing Vlad and Robin were switched as babies, during a Branagh family camping trip to Bistritz. Instead of helping Vlad prove the truth, Robin happily sees him made homeless. 

However, having a friend seems to have a mellowing effect on Robin. In S01:EP12 it's Halloween and Vlad has found a way to lift the curse of vampirism. When Robin's rousing speech against it - " _We're not like everyone else, Vlad. We're different. People may think we're freaks but tonight we're not. On Halloween we rule!_ " - fails, along with his attempts to sabotage the counter curse's requirements, he is forced to admit the truth to Vlad: " _You're the only one who doesn't think I'm a freak. No one else even talks to me. And if you become normal, you won't either_."

_Robin wearing a cape to school. =)_

In S01:EP13 Vlad has to sit his blood tests, the vampire equivalent of GCSEs. If he fails the Count decrees he will never be allowed to see Robin again. Robin promises to help Vlad study, but it quickly becomes apparent that Robin's knowledge of vampire lore just isn't up to the task. The boys argue and Robin pledges to become normal to spite Vlad, landing a place on the school football team and making an effort to get on with his family. Chloe gets the pair of them to see sense and Vlad even gets an apology out of Robin: " _I'm sorry for being an idiot. I don't want you to fail your test_."

Series two sees Vlad become gain some confidence and become less reliant on Robin's company. In turn Robin becomes more insecure. In S02:EP03 the pair break friends when Vlad spends too much time searching for a cure to vampirism with his cousin Boris. Robin spills his guts to Vlad, telling him: " _You're the only person who doesn't think I'm a freak. No one else even talks to me_." But Vlad isn't listening. In S02:EP05 Vlad tries to trick him into donating blood for yet another vampirism cure. Things come to a head in S02:EP08 when the boys battle it out for the affections of the same girl on Valentine's Day. 

_Vlad and Robin bicker in S02:EP06 'Baby Dracula'._

Faced with a reflection of his own behaviour Robin starts acting a little more sympathetically. He makes Ingrid a gothic jewelery box for her sixteenth birthday, something he knows she will actually like. (As opposed to the fake blood he got Vlad the year before.) In S02:EP11 he sits awkwardly with a police officer, who remembers him from the UFO fiasco, for hours to protect Vlad and his family, and in S02:EP13, the final episode, proves his willingness to put himself in danger for Vlad.

* * *

**FANDOM**

Young Dracula fandom is pretty small but, what there is of it, is Robin-centric. The top fanon pairing is Robin / Vlad and this is reflected in the available fic. However there are other pairings out there, and even the odd gen fic. Robin's selfishness and one liners make him fairly easy to write, so he gets more attention than most of the other secondary characters.

I personally love writing Robin because he's such a smart alec but you know, deep down, the poor kid has next to no confidence. I think this gives you a lot of scope as a writer to explore how he'll react in x situation.

**Useful Links:**

  * [**Robin / Vlad ship manifesto**](http://ship-manifesto.dreamwidth.org/221492.html?thread=7394868).
  * Shippy fanstuff - anything and everything Robin / Vlad on the net. [Dead Link]
  * **[lovebitesvr](http://lovebitesvr.livejournal.com/)** \- the Robin / Vlad ship community.



* * *

**RECS**

**Title:[Happy Camp](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5562628/1/Happy_Camp) **

**Author:** [TeamVampire](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/1625375/TeamVampire) **|** **Pairing:**  N/A **| Rating:**  PG **| Word Count:**  WIP **| Summary:** Robin's parents send him away to Happy Camp...

 

 **Title:[Lacuna](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5534456/1/Lacuna)**  

 **Author:** [Izzia](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/821825/Izzia) **| Paring:**  N/A **| Rating:**  12 (PG:13) **| Word Count:** c. 24,000 **| Summary:**  Robin might not be able to remember, but he is determined to get to the truth.

 

**Title:[Unwanted Plans](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5240866/1/Unwanted_Plans) **

**Author:**  [Leelu's Skittles](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/1444437/Leelus_skittles) **| Pairing:** Robin / Vlad **| Rating:**  12 (PG:13) **| Word Count:**  c. 7,000 **| Summary:** Chloe has a plan to get them together. Too bad Vlad has one too. 

 

 **[Robin / Vlad fanvid](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OWYv1rGFI84) ** by malfoyshottie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	135. Robin / Vlad - alternate ending to Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was written in 2009 as an alternate (happy!) ending to another fic - Nightmares, which is also up on AO3 **[HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512766)**.

[Friday lunchtime]

“So then she said that – Vlad! You’re not even listening!”

“I am!” Vlad protested, blushing at being caught out. Robin twisted round in his seat, pulling a face as he worked out what was monopolising Vlad’s attention.

“I don’t know what you see in him. He’s so,” Robin scowled harder as the boy in question smiled over at them, “normal.”

Vlad shot Kieran a tentative smile back, doing his best to ignore Robin’s look of disgust. Sometimes he didn’t understand Robin; he had thought the other boy would be happy that he was finally starting to get over him. Instead Robin only seemed more intent than usual on making his life difficult. From the way he invariably refused to say more than two words to Kieran’s face, to the way he could go on for hours about how Kieran wasn’t worth getting involved with.

Wasn’t - and although he might not say it in as many words, he knew it was what Robin was really getting at – a patch on Robin himself.

The worst thing, Vlad thought, was that he already knew it. He would still chew off his own arm in an instant if he thought it might make Robin want something more than friendship from him.

He looked up to see Kieran making his way across the school canteen and he wished, not for the first time, that that look on Robin’s face was jealousy rather than just his wounded vanity.

* * *

“So I’ll meet you both at the pool at, say, two o’ clock tomorrow?”

Robin bit into his sandwich viciously and glowered at the way Vlad was nodding stupidly, making an idiot of his self as he fawned all over the other boy. It wasn’t, Robin eyed him up appraisingly, as if Kieran was anything special. So he was in the year above, big deal. So he was the school’s sporting superstar, who cared? 

He watched as Kieran took Vlad’s hand under the table and bent close to whisper something in his ear. Apparently Vlad did. Vlad cared so much that he kept ditching him at the drop of a hat. Cared so much that he’d stopped coming round after school, and whenever he went to the castle Ingrid invariably growled at him that Vlad wasn’t in before slamming the door in his face.

And, now, Kieran was even trying to take over Vlad’s swimming lessons, telling him that it would take next to no time now that he, the regional under 18s champion, was on the case. Kieran had even had the cheek to glare at him as he’d said it, as if it was it was his fault Vlad was so terrified of the pool it had taken months of coaxing before he’d even get into it on his own.

Kieran stood and kissed Vlad on the cheek before making his way back over to his friends, and Robin scowled harder still.

He’d show Vlad what a mistake he was making.

* * *

[Friday night]

"Aw, is little Robbie-no-mates in a strop?"

Robin scowled at his brother. If he couldn't be in a strop when his best mate had ditched him, yet again, to spend time with someone whose idea of fun was going for a jog round Upper Stokely, then when could he be? And to think, only a few months ago, Vlad had all but outright told him he loved him. Robin stabbed at his shepherd's pie, he was sick of thinking about Vlad.

"Ian," Mrs. Branagh glared at him as she set his dinner down in front of him. "Robin is a very popular boy."

"With who?" asked Paul incredulously.

"Yeah," Chloe added slowly, Jonno just sat next to her watching the exchange curiously, "who?"

"That's it," Robin threw his cutlery down onto the table with a clatter, "I'm going to my room!"

Ian shrugged and shared a look with Paul, "Must be his time of the month."

* * *

“What time do you call this?”

Vlad spun around from the front door. “I’m not late!”

“He means what time is it, bat-brain.” Ingrid sneered over at him from where she was filing her nails and Vlad relaxed. He was late, but that was hardly the point.

“This thing isn’t working!” The Count whined from his throne, shaking the digital clock in his hands. 

“I expect it just needs a new battery-“ Vlad watched as The Count hurled it in Renfield’s general direction, causing it to crack into pieces against the flagstone floor.

“Vlad,” The Count appeared behind him, mood entirely changed as he lay his hands on his shoulders and steered him over to sit at the table. Ingrid watched silently, although the expression on her face suggested she was more disgusted with him than usual. “I’ve heard all about your rakish ways! Why didn’t you tell me that’s where you were going!?” His tone turned gloating, “I knew you could do it, after all you did learn from the master.”

“What,” Vlad squirmed around in his seat to see his dad grinning from ear to ear. It scared him a little, “are you on about?” The Count ignored the question, starting on a monologue about his irresistibility. 

Ingrid leaned closer instead, smirking as she hissed, “You playing Branagh and that other idiot off against each other. Maybe,” she sank back into the chair, “there’s hope for you yet.” Taking in Vlad’s look of confusion she shook her head. “Then again, maybe not.”

* * *

[Saturday afternoon]

“Kick harder, Vlad!”

Robin watched as Vlad splashed about uselessly, coughing and spluttering as he swallowed mouthfuls of the chlorinated water. He wanted to help but Vlad had been adamant he wanted to do it on his own. Kieran, who never listened to what Vlad wanted, placed his hands underneath Vlad’s stomach, helping him to stay afloat and Robin was forced to admit that the weird emotion he had been feeling all week was jealousy.

Pure, unadulterated jealousy.

When Vlad looked up at the other boy with the same wide eyed trust he’d only ever seen directed at him, Robin could take it no longer. He hauled himself out of the pool and made his way back to the dive boards. They’d already had to watch Kieran go through his stupid routine – Vlad assuring him that he was ‘bound’ to win at the county finals. Robin had privately hoped Kieran would slip and break his neck, but, luck seemed to have given up on him lately.

He thought back to the way Vlad had smiled up at him that day he had been discharged from hospital, like he was the only thing in the world that mattered to him. The way Vlad had clung to him and cried when he’d told him he didn’t like Vlad back. He wondered how different things would be if he’d told Vlad he was willing to try. Would Vlad still have got bored with him and found a replacement?

By the time he finally got to the front of the queue he was seething, something not helped by the fact he could see that the pair of them were leant against the side of the pool, so engrossed in each other they probably hadn’t even noticed he was gone. Robin scowled as he got ready to dive, the jealousy burning so bright as to be an almost physical ache.

What did Kieran have that he didn’t?

* * *

“I don’t even know why you hang round with him.” Kieran brushed Vlad’s wet hair back from his forehead with one hand, “He’s a proper weirdo.”

“No,” Vlad jerked his head away, “he isn’t. You don’t even know him.”

Kieran shook his head, dropping his hand back to his side, and sighed, “I don’t want to. You’re the one who can’t go two minutes without mentioning his name!”

Vlad turned away, biting back the angry retort on the tip of his tongue. It wasn’t as if he could deny it. He liked Kieran, he was fun and easygoing – and, best of all, he didn’t believe in vampires – but… he wasn’t Robin.

He looked around the pool, trying again to pick him out amongst the crowds of Saturday afternoon swimmers, when the shrill sound of the lifeguard’s whistle caught everyone’s attention. 

“Come on! Everyone out!”

The second lifeguard was already in the pool, heading for the still, dark-haired figure Vlad could just about make out through the water. He grasped at Kieran’s arm, certain it was either that or his knees would give way, his blood feeling like ice in his veins. 

Robin.

* * *

“He was very lucky.” The doctor spoke in clipped, professional tones as he summed up the afternoon’s events. Mr. Branagh studied Robin closely, he seemed fine, a little shaken perhaps, but other than that. They’d been told that Robin had slipped on the dive board and knocked himself unconscious, might have drowned in the pool had it not been for the vigilance of the lifeguards.

He contemplated making a joke about finding Robin a permanent bed at the hospital but the anxious look on Elizabeth’s face convinced him to leave it.

Instead he turned his attention to Vlad. Where Robin had greeted them with an enthusiastic ‘can we get chips on the way home?’ Vlad had been huddled on a plastic chair in the corridor, pale as death. The boy he’d been with had looked more than a little relieved to be able to hand the responsibility over, and Vlad hadn’t even acknowledged his departure, had just sat there shivering in what, years of active Scout service told him, must be shock.

Leading the way back through the maze of Stokely General, he couldn’t help but notice when Robin finally slid his own arm around Vlad’s shoulders, smiling reassuringly at him as they made their way across the car park.

Sometimes, Mr. Branagh thought ruefully, he wished he could just bang their heads together and knock some sense into both of them.

* * *

“You sure you don’t want any of this?”

Vlad glanced at the ice cream and shook his head. He felt like he never wanted to eat again.

“Aw, I love it when I’ve been ill,” Robin said around a spoonful. “Hey, Vlad, come on,” He touched a hand to Vlad’s arm, “stop worrying. Everyone’s alive. Well, except for Ingrid and your dad, but they’re undead so I suppose technically –”

“I had a nightmare about it.” Vlad blurted out, halting Robin’s speech.

Robin sat up properly, shifting so that they were sat with their backs against Robin’s bedroom wall, their sides pressed together. “About being a vampire? You’ll be alright, Vlad. You’re too stubborn to go on a rampage.” Robin smiled at him.

Vlad shook his head, “No, about you. Drowning in the pool.” He reached for Robin’s hand, relieved when the other boy didn’t resist. “It was so horrible today, Robin. I thought you were dead.” He met Robin’s gaze and touched the fingers of his other hand to the still vivid scar across Robin’s neck, “Again.”

“You-“ Robin cleared his throat and looked away, Vlad dropped his hand back into his lap. “You would ‘ave still ‘ad Kieran though.” 

Robin’s tone was a bad mixture of humour and hurt. Vlad let his head fall back against the wall and shut his eyes, concentrating instead on how Robin’s hand felt curled in his own.

“We split up,” he managed to mumble. Really, Vlad thought, how could they not have? If the way he had almost knocked a six year old unconscious in his hurry to get into the ambulance with Robin hadn’t done it, snivelling into his hands in the waiting room about how much he loved him had been bound to seal the deal. Aloud he just said, “He was jealous of you.”

“Yeah, well,” to Vlad’s surprise the grip on his hand tightened, “he wasn’t good enough for you anyway, Vlad.”

Vlad scoffed. “Who is then?”

The silence stretched out and Vlad risked opening his eyes to peer at Robin curiously. "Am I really that amazing then?" He asked, trying for light heartedness. At the look of confusion on Robin's face he quickly elaborated, "Nobody's good enough for me - not even Mr. 'Dark, mysterious and handsome' himself?" He regretted the words almost instantly but Robin just stared back at him intently for a long moment, his dark eyes huge in the perpetual gloom of his bedroom.

Finally Robin spoke, "I don't know, Vlad." Robin was so close the whispered words fanned across his face, shocking Vlad’s entire nervous system into frenzied excitement, "you tell me." Robin's tone was serious, his expression suddenly anxious as he shifted closer still. "Am I good enough for you?"

A thousand thoughts flashed through his head - all his carefully thought out reasons why Robin wasn't really as brilliant as his heart insisted on telling him he was. All the counter reasons he invariably thought up afterwards. Their hands were still clasped together and Vlad met Robin's gaze carefully.

"If you're being serious then, yeah," Vlad nodded, scarcely daring to breathe. "Yeah you are."

Robin smiled up at him and Vlad was suddenly certain of something he had long suspected: cursed mirrors or not, Robin was always going to have his heart.

* * *

[Sunday]

"Did you see that?"

"What?" Paul asked, not bothering to look up from the computer screen.

Ian pointed towards the doorway where Robin and Vlad were still necking each other goodnight. Paul pulled a face, "What would I want to see that for!?" He shook his head, "I thought Vladdo had come to his senses and gone off Freakboy anyway?"

Ian smirked smugly. "Doesn't look like it, does it? I think that makes me ten pounds richer."

"Aw, what?" Paul sighed and started rooting around in his pocket for some loose change.

"Perhaps," Mr. Branagh said self-righteously from behind his copy of the Stokely Sunday Gazette, "this will teach you not to gamble."

Paul ignored him.

"I bet Vlad gets sick of him by the end of the month."

"Yeah, right," Ian put the change in his own pocket. "More like the end of the week."

They both looked back at the doorway and nodded.

"You're on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489) for my Young Dracula story index.
> 
> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


	136. Chapter Index

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summaries and links for individual stories, sorted by pairing.

Young Dracula was my first big fic writing fandom and it kind of shows... The bulk of it is collected in this oneshot collection, but I've also got longer stories and challenge responses posted up individually. Everything is included in this index, sorted by pairing and then by length for Vlad/Robin because it was my OTP to end all OTPs. So scroll on for fic summaries and ratings, categorised under:

Robin / Vlad. (10,000+ words | 1,000 - 10,000 words | Under 1,000 words)

Vlad / Bertrand.

Robin / Bertrand.

Jonno / Robin.

Other Pairings. (F/F Ships | M/F Ships | M/M Ships)

Gen.

You can find all my Young Dracula fanart - mostly Vlad/Robin - [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/3592898). And a little comic [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/24772305).

**Vlad / Robin**

10000+ words:

★. [An Actor's Life For Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512229/chapters/903068). Robin is convinced he'll land the lead part in the school play - but you should never underestimate a Dracula! [T]

★. [Growing Pains](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512730). Vlad's about to go through the transformation, Robin doesn't seem to care. [T] There is also a sequel to this one - [Young But Growing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/513802) - in which Robin has to go scouting, but Vlad has bigger fish to fry. [13k, T]

★. [Happy Someday](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512285). Vlad and Robin get together in the future, in the style of a cheesy made for TV movie. [T]

★. [Nightmares](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512766). Robin's not as accepting as Vlad hoped he would be. [T] (There is an alternate, less angsty, ending to this one [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/24827880).)

* * *

1000 - 10000 words:

★. [Best Laid Plans](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906259). School trip shenanigans. [G]

★. [Biting](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/24825582). Practice makes perfect... [T]

★. [Camping Trip](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906409). What it says on the tin. [T]

★. [Clueless](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/24773100). Vlad has a lot to learn. [E]

★. [Comic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/24772305). Ingrid's plan to make Vlad suffer backfires. [G]

★. [Cuckoo](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906269). Mary Sue Halloween challenge fic - a new girl at school causes problems. [T]

★. [Cultural Differences](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/24771840). Vlad tells the twins he and Robin are together so they'll quit teasing Robin for being a virgin. Robin isn't happy about it. [T]

★. [Don't Wanna Grow Up](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906790). Mr Branagh's punk past is revealed. [G]

★. [I Do](https://archiveofourown.org/works/301007). Future fic; Robin asks Vlad to be his best man. [T]

★. [Getting Away With Murder](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512839). Robin sees something he shouldn't have. [T]

★. [Glutton For Punishment](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512832). Cheating fic. [T]

★. [Holiday](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905058). Vlad and Robin go on holiday - by total coincidence the Van Helsings have chosen the same destination. [T]

★. [Keep Fit](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905080). Robin is secretly quite into sports. [T]

★. [Life or Death](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904614). A car accident puts Robin in a coma. [T]

★. [Losing Battle](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/24772146). The Van Helsings start a new crusade, this time to save Vlad's soul. [T]

★. [Lost In Translation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/300996). Vlad doesn't know what the word 'gay' means, misunderstandings ensue. [T]

★. [Love Bites](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/24826212). They accidentally end up betrothed. [T]

★. [Once a Victim](https://archiveofourown.org/works/300940). Crossover with Joe Dunthorne's Submarine. [T]

★. [Public Transport](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904514). Robin meets a strangely familiar stranger on the bus. [T]

★. [Rest In Peace](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906811). Robin's nan dies and Vlad learns to trust in himself. [G]

★. [Say What?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512295) 2010 LGBT Fest fic - a character's parents are a little *too* supportive. [G]

★. [The Green Eyed Monster](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512778). Vlad decides to teach Robin a lesson. [G]

★. [Time Travel](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906829). Vlad learns why you shouldn't meddle with black magic. [T]

★. [Transformation](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/24772554). Robin wants to be there for Vlad in more ways than one. [M]

★. [Trust](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906395). Based on that line Chloe says about Robin ending up on the streets. [T]

★. [Valentine's Day](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/907200). Fluffy fluff. [G]

★. [Waiting Game](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512721). Vlad's willing to wait to get what he wants. [G]

★. [Wawffactor](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512780). Vlad gets to meet the extended Branagh family; Robin gets jealous. [G]

★. [We Don't Want The Same Things](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905155). Dark Fest fic - without Vlad, Robin gives up. [T]

★. [Win - Win Situation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/300992). Robin thinks he has it all worked out - he'll get to be a vampire, and Vlad will get what he's always wanted... [E]

★. [Wish](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512267). The obligatory gender swap fic. [T]

★. [Wrong Number](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904508). Lots of texting! [T]

* * *

Under 1000 words:

★. [50 Sentence Challenge](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906281). [G]

★. [7 Snogs Drabble Challenge](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905139). [G]

★. [Afraid](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904672). Robin grows up to be a policeman, investigating the ruins of Stokely Castle... [G]

★. [Air](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905036). Vlad loses Robin. [G]

★. [All Over Now](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905122). Robin misses Vlad. [G]

★. [Almost Perfect](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904941). Vlad tries to find a substitute for Robin. [T]

★. [Beauty Is In The Eye Of The Beholder](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905005). So thinks Vlad. [G]

★. [Blanket Fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/24771738). Sharing a blanket. [T]

★. [Brains](http://archiveofourown.org/works/513786). Zombies hit Stokely! [G]

★. [Christmas Sap](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904553). Robin fixes Mr Cuddles for Vlad. [G]

★. [Christmas Spirit](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905125). Just some festive fluff. [G]

★. [Club Night](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906377). Fake IDs and staying out past curfew. [T]

★. [Clubbing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/24825312). Robin meets a handsome 'stranger' in a club. [E]

★. [Colourblind](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905094). Song fic fun! [G]

★. [Conventional](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904623). The boys attend a convention. [G]

★. [Cosplay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905060). Neither of them wants to be the sidekick. [G]

★. [Cross Dressing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/20254279). Robin plays at being Vlad's girlfriend to fool Granny Westenra. [G]

★. [Cut](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905048). A little bit of bloodplay. [T]

★. [Dark Side](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906815). Vlad acts like a vampire - based on Werepuppy's Chronicles series. [T]

★. [Date](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905145). Vlad asks Robin out. [G]

★. [Diary](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/907168). Vlad keeps a diary. [G]

★. [Direct To Video](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906405). The twins' DVD collection proves enlightening. And horrifying. [T]

★. [Distraction](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/907154). Vlad can focus Robin's attention when he needs to. [T]

★. [Drabble Collection](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905070). [G]

★. [Family Weddings](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906299). Robin ropes Vlad into coming along. [G]

★. [Feeding](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/907191). Vampire style! [T]

★. [First / Last](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906318). Robin asks Vlad out. [G]

★. [First Kiss](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906881). And the last... [G]

★. [First Person POV](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906335). The result of yet another writing challenge. [G]

★. [Forever](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/24825381). Vlad wants Robin at his side for all time. [G]

★. [Forgotten](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904652). Robin can't quite remember. [G]

★. [Getting Told Off](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906368). Trouble at school. [G]

★. [Gone But Not Forgotten](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904496). Vlad is with Erin but can't forget about Robin. [G] ([HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906795)'s another ficlet on the same theme.)

★. [Irresistible](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/907129). Robin doesn't understand why Ingrid keeps turning him down. [G]

★. [Jealousy](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905024). Sometimes being a vampire isn't everything it's cracked up to be. [G]

★. [Let's Pretend](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904998). Fake relationship fic. [G]

★. [Lingerie](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905087). Department store embarrassment. [G]

★. [Loved and Lost](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904929). Ingrid takes what Vlad most wants. [T] (Plus another variation on the same theme [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905045).)

★. [Makeover](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904975). Robin gets a haircut. [G]

★. [Matchmaker](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906338). Ingrid plays matchmaker. [G]

★. [Memory Games](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/20254537). Robin forgets Vlad - Vlad tries to make him remember. [T]

★. [Middle Ages AU](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906307). [G]

★. [Misunderstanding](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904660). It's not what it sounds like. [G]

★. [Mood](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904640). Bickering galore! [G]

★. [My Own Worst Enemy](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905008). Neither one of them can see what is right in front of his face. [T]

★. [Nightmares](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906273). Vlad has a nightmare at a sleepover. [G]

★. [Normal](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/907131). It's all Vlad's ever wanted. [G]

★. [Not Enough](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904682). Vlad thinks about Robin, way in the future. [G]

★. [Old Friends, New Enemies](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/20255713). Robin is working for the Guild. Unfinished WIP. [T]

★. [Out of Control](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906346). Vlad slips Robin a vampire aphrodisiac. [T]

★. [Pass It On](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904936). Robin wants Vlad to pass notes in class. [G]

★. [Photographs](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904659). Robin's parents embarrass him. [G]

★. [Prom Night](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906365). Vlad turns up at Stokely Grammar's leavers' bash. [T]

★. [Promises](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904966). Vlad keeps his promises. [G]

★. [PWP](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/24771567). Porn without plot. [E]

★. [R.I.P](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/907087). Vlad left it too late. [G]

★. [Role Reversal](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/20254165). Robin plays at being the Vampire. [G]

★. [Show Don't Tell](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/907105). Vlad asks Robin to teach him how to kiss. [G]

★. [Speechless](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904648). 10 drabbles for the no speaking rule challenge. [G]

★. [Stalking Is A Strong Word](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/907127). Vlad's just keeping a close eye on Robin. [T]

★. [Stranger](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904537). Angsty future fic. [T]

★. [Test](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905053). Vlad confesses his feelings. Almost. [G]

★. [Tradition](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905067). Under the mistletoe. [G]

★. [Under The Influence](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905128). Sex pollen. [T]

★. [Wedding Bells](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904498). Vlad sees Robin on TV when Garside Grange joins the 21st Century. [G]

★. [Win](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904644). Vlad can't stand Robin's bragging. [G]

**Vlad / Bertrand**

★. [Control](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904687). Failure is not an option. [G]

★. [Distracting](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904544). Vlad muses about the potential love interests in his life. [G]

★. [Hidden](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905123). Bertrand isn't sure what he feels. [G]

★. [Laying Low](https://archiveofourown.org/works/316162). Canadian Shack challenge fic. [G]

★. [Playing By The Rules](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905137). Some rules are made to be broken. [G]

★. [Professional Conduct](https://archiveofourown.org/works/300981). Miss McCauley worries about Vlad's relationship with Bertrand. [T]

★. [Rumours](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904500). QueerFest 2012 fic - rumours go around school that a teacher is gay. [G]

★. [Unrequited](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904489). Vlad doesn't get the response he was hoping for. [G] 

  **Robin / Bertrand**

★. [Asylum](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904517). People think Robin is crazy. [T]

★. [Checkmate](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904503). Robin saves Bertrand's unlife. [T]

★. [Kidnapped](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/932320). Bertrand comes to Robin's rescue. [T]

★. [The Pursuit of Happiness](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512851). About growing up and moving on. [T] 

**Jonno / Robin**

★. [Don't Ask, Don't Tell](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512131/chapters/902863). Jonno learns the hard way that keeping secrets only causes problems. [G]

★. [Not What It Seems](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512260). Van Helsing hears something interesting, but it's Jonno who has to do the legwork. [G] 

**Other Pairings**  

F/F

★. [Chloe/Ingrid](https://archiveofourown.org/works/300999). Sometimes - written for a better to have loved and lost challenge. [T]

★. [Chloe/Olga](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904636). First Kiss. [G]

★. [Ingrid/Erin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/295727). Second Best - Yuletide 2011 fic. [T]

* * *

 M/F

★. [Becky/Bertrand](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904511). (Kind of!) [G]

★. [Becky/Robin](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904540). Cracky song!fic. [G]

★. [Chloe/Vlad](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904555). Chloe helps Vlad with his homework. [G]

★. [Chloe/Vlad](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905010). Angsty drabble. [G]

★. [Ingrid/Robin](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904929). Loved and Lost - Ingrid takes what Vlad most wants. [T] (Plus another variation on the same theme [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905045).)

★. [Ingrid/Will](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905141). Ingrid thinks about Will. [G]

★. [Paul/Ingrid/Ian](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/907106). Share and share alike. [T]

★. [The Count/Mrs Branagh](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/24825915). Unfinished WIP. [G]

★. [Vlad/Erin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/300966). Someone To Confide In - teen pregnancy fic. [T]

★. [Gone But Not Forgotten](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904496). Vlad is with Erin but can't forget about Robin. [G] ([HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906795)'s another ficlet on the same theme.)

* * *

M/M

★. [Ian/Paul](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904926). Ingrid tricks them beneath the mistletoe... [G]

★. [Ian/Paul](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/931932). Helping hands. [M]

★. [Robin/The Count](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904494). Robin has a crush. [G]

★. [Jonno/Vlad](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904616). Jonno made him feel alive. [G] 

★. [Vlad/Paul](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904955). Robin is horrified to learn the identity of Vlad's crush. [G]

★. [The Count/Eric Van Helsing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905019). Robin has an overactive imagination... [G]

★. [The Count/Eric Van Helsing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906265). The Count never loses a bet, especially not one laid down by the likes of Graham Branagh. [G]

**Gen**

★. [AU - Vlad meets Jonno before Robin](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/20254378). [G]

★. [Branagh Family Backstory](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906314). [G]

★. [Election Fever](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905099). Mr Branagh isn't keen on having the Count's sort in Stokely. [G]

★. [Kismet](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904522). Fate hasn't been kind to Bertrand. [T]

★. [Static](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904525). Horror Comment Meme fic - Bertrand is afraid of the staring faces on the television. [T]

★. [Hiding In Plain Sight](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/20255086). Vlad's great uncle Armand comes to visit. Unfinished WIP. [G]

★. [How To Cope When Your Old Man's A Madman](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905075). By Jonno Van Helsing. [G]

★. [Once A Slayer, Always A Slayer](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904627). Some Jonno angst. [T]

★. [Mirror](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904532). There will always be a side of Vlad he doesn't understand. [T]

★. [Moving On](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/20254669). The Branaghs think about moving. Unfinished WIP. [G]

★. [Robin Gets A Letter To Hogwarts](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/20254117). [G]

★. [S3 gen](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905135). A slice of (un)life at Garside Grange. [G]

★. [Shoulder To Cry On](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/906322). As sympathetic as Ingrid gets. [G]

★. [The Count thinks he's ill](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904565). [G]

★. [Things Can Always Get Worse](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904530). Nothing goes right for Vlad. [G]

★. [Trendy](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905074). Sometimes Robin wishes he was adopted. [G]

★. [Who Needs Friends Anyway?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/905113) Ingrid centric fic for the 2011 femgenficathon. [G]

Other - mixed memes and drabble challenges:

★. [10 Word Fic Challenge](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904607). [G]

★. [Fanart](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/3592898). [G]

★. [Music Drabble Challenge](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904964). [G]

★. [Writing Meme](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/904981). [G]

★. [Robin Branagh Character Manifesto](http://archiveofourown.org/works/512861/chapters/24826644). [G]

If you have any prompts you'd like to see me have a bash at, or just want to chat YD, you can reach me in the comments here or over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/).


End file.
